#darkling imagine

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

let me be yours

a/n: this (and so many other ideas omg) was just sparked when he said the whole let me be your monster line in s2

warnings: aleksander morozova x reader, enemies to lovers undertones, love confession

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“See, you may think you know what you want, but you don’t,” Aleksander explained calmly as he slowly stepped closer towards where you stood, leaning against the palace wall, “no, I know exactly what it is that you really want,” he came to a stop right in front of you and breathed, “what you truly desire…” his obsidian gaze so fierce that it sent a shiver down your spine. 

Your heart nearly beat completely out of your chest, not only by his arrogant assumption but also by the unfamiliar intimate proximity, “you want a challenge,” he continued, “you want a love that consumes you,” you sucked in a sudden breath as one of his hands unexpectedly came up to gently swipe your hair back over your shoulder, his fingertips lightly ghosting over the side of your exposed neck as he did so, “one that’s so all-consuming that it blurs the line and you confuse it with hate.”

“You, my little bird, don’t want a hero,” the room around you two seemed to dim slightly, letting you focus on him and only him as he uttered, “you desire a monster,” his tall frame towered over yours as he proposed fervently, “let me be yours.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[hottpinkpenguin]

Could I request the Darkling x virgin reader where they go to bed together, but before they sleep together reader changes her mind as she's not ready. She's unsure how he will react, but darkling is super soft and reassuring and tells her they will only sleep together when she's ready/there's no rush or pressure etc...

A/n: I made you wait far too long for this anon!! this was a great prompt and i loved writing it. no one makes me melt more than Soft Darkling! hope you love it <33

Eager

Darkling X VirginFem!Reader Word Count: 2524 Warnings: fluff/spice (no smut), misogyny vibes (but not from Darkling!)

You felt utterly ridiculous standing in the middle of your expansive bedchamber, the lacy negligee Genya had picked out for you doing little to keep you warm. You had the bottom hem bunched in your shaking hands as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Deep breaths,” Genya cooed gently as she brushed your hair down your back. You tried to follow her instructions, timing your inhales and exhales with hers. No amount of self-control could quite stifle the terrified stuttering of your heart in your chest. She knitted her brows at your reflection in the mirror.

“It’s normal to be nervous,” she observed softly. “But you shouldn’t be… terrified.” 

The corners of your mouth twitched as you fought the urge to cry. You were grateful for the dim light of the scattered candles in your room. It kept your sour expression cast in shadow. 

“I’m not terrified,” you argued weakly. “I’m just…” Your voice trailed off impotently as you tried to find the right word. Apprehensive? Embarrassed? Exhausted?

“Stressed.” You settled on a word that captured such a small fraction of the emotions swirling in your chest as to be almost negligible. You were terrified, although not in the way Genya assumed. You were anything but unsure of what you were about to do. In fact, you were utterly consumed with desire for Aleksander. The warm knot that boiled low and deep in your stomach confirmed that. Your heart skipped a beat as your pent-up mind thrust imagined scenes into your consciousness: your lips on the curve of his neck… the muscles on his back flexing as he climbs on top of you… his fingers digging into the flesh around your hips…

No, it wasn’t sex that you were terrified of. And it wasn’t Aleksander either. 

The source of your terror wasn’t anywhere outside of you. It was within you. You forced yourself to hold your own gaze in the mirror, staring down the demons in your own eyes. You need to confront this, you chided yourself. No more running. 

You were terrified of giving up this part of yourself to someone else. It wasn’t about Aleksander, and it wasn’t about the actions involved in giving it up. The thing that held your heart in an ice-cold vice was the fear of repercussions. You’d been raised in the Ravkan High Court your whole life, and as the only Lantsov daughter, your worth still hinged on antiquated rules tied to your purity. Your brothers Nikolai and Vasily had never known that kind of pressure, had never been forced to preserve their innocence for the bitter reward of bartering an advantageous marriage. 

You had Aleksander to thank for showing you your worth. He was the one who’d shown you what it meant to be truly valued, truly loved. He was the one who’d intervened on your behalf when you’d been standing at the altar, moments away from an ill-fated marriage to an abusive drunk. All your family had seen was the virginal princess wrapped in white - Ravka’s most valuable gift - and the massive coffers of your almost-husband’s family. Aleksander had seen a woman inches away from marrying what would ultimately be the death of her. He’d been the one to give you a choice. You loved him, completely and utterly, and he would be the one you’d choose to give yourself to, body and soul. 

But as much as you hated to admit it - as much as it stung to confront just how deeply rooted the twisted morals of your upbringing had become within your own mind - you hadn’t come to peace yet. You were flexing your newfound freedom a little more every day. With Aleksander by your side. But you needed more time. 

A gentle knock on the carved wooden doors that separated your bedchamber from the hall outside knocked you from your reverie. Genya stood hastily, smoothing her palm over the smooth waves of your hair one last time. She gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You caught her hand under your own, nodding calmly as you smiled at her. You wondered if she could see the gratitude in your eyes. Aleksander was the first to show you true love, and Genya was the first to show you true friendship. You hoped that one day you’d be able to put into words just how much she’d saved you. 

She hesitated only briefly to smile back before she made her exit, disappearing through the doorway into the hall. You heard her exchange soft words with Aleksander before she closed the door behind her. 

You chuckled when you heard Aleksander knock again gently, asking if he could come in. Ever the gentleman, you thought as you replied affirmatively. The door opened a crack, deep shadows darkening the doorway. Aleksander seemed to materialize out of the very darkness itself. It was a strange manifestation of his powers, and one that you weren’t sure if he was fully aware of. You’d never mentioned it to him, preferring instead to let yourself be caught breathless by his presence each time. 

As always, you felt your breath tangle in your throat for an instant. The sight of him seemed to wipe your mind clean of all the worries and the conflicted emotions, leaving behind nothing more than that burning knot in your stomach. His dark eyes took in the scene before him, lingering on the vast expanses of your skin that he’d never seen before. For the first time since you’d slipped into the sheer, purple-tinted gown, you felt warm. You ignored the urge to demur and turn away under the heat of Aleksander’s hungry gaze. Instead, you rose from your seat in front of the dressing mirror and walked towards him. A gentle breeze from the open window next to your bed made the candlelight flicker, the hazy glow dancing in his eyes as he tracked your every movement. That delicious, warm knot low in your belly tightened at the closeness of him, the air between the two of you practically crackling with energy. 

“You look-”

You silenced what you were sure would have been a devastatingly appreciative compliment by pressing a finger to his full lips. He fell silent obediently, his eyes simmering like coals. It was rare for him to see you so confident. Usually he was the one guiding the interaction, but you felt incredibly powerful as he fell under your spell. His usually tense and vaguely troubled energy completely erased in favor of awe as he drank you in without an ounce of embarrassment. 

You replaced your finger with your lips, pressing yourself against his tall, strong frame. His hands raked up the side of your thighs, bunching the fabric of your gown up on your waist to expose the skin of your hips. His hands kept traveling upward, following your ribs from your sides up into the planes of your shoulders and your upper back. You let yourself melt into the kiss, moaning softly as he drank in every drop of what you were giving him with a hungry, seemingly bottomless need. 

His hands finally found their way up into your hair, tangling his fingers gently but firmly against your scalp as he pulled you back from his mouth. You looked up at him through slitted eyes, feeling drunk and whining at the loss of his mouth. He smirked, relishing in the effect his touch was having on you. 

“Eager are we, pretty girl?” 

Your stomach somersaulted at the pet name, your head spinning wildly as he bore back down on your mouth. His tongue pressed through your open lips, tasting you as if he’d never be sated. You could feel the seams between your thoughts starting to loosen, your mind falling under the intoxicating spell of lust. His hands released your hair and slid down your spine and over the swell of your backside. He hooked his hands under your ass, and you leapt up into his arms, twining your legs around his waist. He caught you easily, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with ease as he guided you backwards towards the luxurious bed. You felt the softness of the sheets envelop you as he laid you down, his weight settling on top of you not an instant later. It was all warmth and friction between you two, each of your hands roaming freely over the other’s body as you kept driving the kiss deeper. 

It wasn’t until you felt one of his hands slip over your naked hip and settle between your thighs that a familiar prick of uncertainty flared to life in the back of your mind. It was quiet but insistent, and like a lighthouse cutting through a thick fog, it brought your awareness crashing back into the moment with disappointing clarity.

Aleksander sensed your hesitation and broke the kiss, his eyes suddenly full of worry as he met your gaze. 

“Where’d you go?” he asked, his voice husky around the edges. The sound of it nearly wiped away the trace indecision that flitted around your thoughts like a gnat. But, as gorgeous as he looked hovering over you with a concerned expression, his breath more ragged than usual, you knew in your heart what your decision was.

“I… I want you… desperately want you. But… maybe not… maybe not tonight.” As the words came out in a halting mumble, you suddenly felt incredibly sheepish. A nagging voice in your head made the sharp observation that you’ve let him go this far, the least you can do is give the man what he needs and finish the job. 

You found you were unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’d see in his gaze. You weren’t sure you could bear to disappoint Aleksander of all people. Much like a few minutes ago, you felt the edges of your mouth turn down and tremble, tears threatening your eyes. That hot, lusty urge that had almost consumed you moments before crumpled like tissue paper in your blood, and your cheeks burned with shame.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured, rolling sideways onto the bed and gently guiding your chin upward with his thumb. “Never discount your needs with me.” His voice was serious, each word heavy with emphasis.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, drinking in the flickers of emotion in his mahogany-black eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled in reply. 

“Do not say ‘maybe not tonight’ when what you mean is ‘not tonight’,” he clarified. His words felt like a riddle you were struggling to grasp. Sensing your confusion, he went on. “You deserve better than that. This-” he gestured to your two bodies, still somewhat intertwined on the bed- “will only give us what we want if we are clear on what we need.”

You’d never laid with a man, had never come this far into intimacy with Aleksander, but you recognized the truth in his words on an instinctual level. The bluntness with which he addressed you was strange and refreshing, and it emboldened you. You nodded in agreement, holding his gaze to show him you understood. He smiled after a moment, satisfied with your reaction. 

“My affection for you is not contingent on your body,” he added, anticipating the direction of your worries before your thoughts had a chance to get there. “I love you for all that you are, independent of what you share with me on any given night.” Your head spun, struggling under the weight of what you were sure was one of the most pure and powerful expressions of love that anyone had put to words. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as a crushing wave of appreciation for the man in front of you swallowed your thoughts.

Aleksander watched your emotions flash in your eyes, the tears causing him to frown slightly in confusion. He brushed a thumb at the corner of your lash line, wiping away the moisture there. His touch still sent shivers rippling over your skin, and you smiled at him. Emboldened by his devotion, you took a deep breath in and began to speak. 

“I don’t know how to give away this part of myself, Aleks. After having my virginity prized and sought after and protected for so long, I’m struggling to think of this-” you copied his gesture, referencing the space between you two where your legs tangled in his and your skin pressed on his torso “-as anything beyond duty. It’s getting better,” you added quickly, noticing the twinge of hurt in his eyes. “It is. Because of you. And I do love you. And I want this. I want to be yours, to give myself to you, including my body.” You had to swat away the urge to kiss him as you noticed the involuntary flicker of desire in his gaze at your words. “And I will. But not until I can think of sex as more than just… a gift.” 

The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could catch them. When you were done, you bit your lip, unsure if anything you’d confessed had made sense. You waited, studying Aleksander’s face. As usual, he was drinking you in, his intuition grasping at every minute detail in your tone, inflection, and expression. When you’d first met him, you’d been unnerved by how observant he was, how quickly he deduced your feelings and thoughts. At times, his studious attention was irritating  as it meant you couldn’t keep anything from him. But now, when you felt yourself drowning in a million emotions you weren’t sure had names, you were grateful for his ability to read you.

After a few long moments under his penetrating gaze, he smiled, softly chuckling. 

“What’s funny?” you asked, more curious than offended. He reached down and found your hand, resting on your stomach. He interlaced his fingers with yours and brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss there. When he raised his dark eyes back to yours, you saw nothing but adoration sparkling back at you. 

“You are, quite simply, the most incredible being I have ever known,” he said simply, as if he were reading a recipe list to you. “I would wait until the night swallows the sun for you. Whenever you’re ready, my love. You know where to find me.” His last words were mumbled slightly as he rolled over, twisting towards the edge of the bed. As elated as you were by his unequivocal acceptance of your boundary, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit rejected to see him turn to leave. 

“And where’s that, Aleks?” you asked. He half-turned back to you, one eyebrow raised in question. “Where will I find you?” you clarified. He smirked, picking up the candle on your bedside table and blowing it out with a confident exhale. 

“Right here,” he replied, settling in under the covers next to you, his arms wrapping around your barely clothed body and pulling you against him. You smiled in the darkness at the realization that he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you…

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Beauty and the Beast (part 5)

A/n: Watched a foreign film about another take on BatB and thought about this fic the whole time so. Im back by unholy inspiration lets go

Word Count: 5,000+

MASTERLIST

The Exchange

The first thought that came to him, despite all the ones that should have, was disbelief. Awe even. Volcra didn't talk, and they weren't intelligent. They were beasts; mindless killing machines. They weren't even animals, they were living nightmares. All they wanted was to kill. Not to eat, not for enjoyment - just because that's what their purpose was. They were tools to divide one side of the country from the other. They were a warning: Don't play with the things you do not understand. They made the shadow summoner that made it a heretic. They made every person nearby twisted, destroyed by real magic. By darkness that expanded and ripped the land in  half.

This volcra was nothing like that. 

It was a shadow summoner. How was a volcra a shadow summoner?

How was one talking to him? Why wasn't it trying to kill him?

This was impossible.

A horrible feeling curled through Y/n's chest as something horrifying settled into him. Had his scrolls been as lie? A dramatization? Surely most volcra were one way, but were there an entire breed of the creatures that were more human than monster? There were so many possibilities. So many questions. All of it leading down a very dangerous path.

Silence stretched a little too long, and the volcra seemed to tilt its head. It seemed it had expected panic or screaming. Maybe for Y/n to take off running, or melt in place without a shred of hope. It did not expect this mere mortal, grisha or not, to stand in place and gawk - wonder coloring his eyes.

The volcra seemed to consider that. "Your curiosity is stronger than your fear." As its mouth moved, a shiver ran down Y/n's spine. It was so human, a movement set into a face so alien that it almost looked like art. A cartoon, but in jarringly realistic style.

"You're a volcra," Y/n whispered. Perhaps it was shock or denial that had his mind seeking answers instead of any other rational action of self preservation. He was exposed like this. He would have been easy to kill any other way... suppose it was that which kept him in place. Why run? Why scream? Why beg? That was pointless. Perhaps he could ask some things before it killed him. He wouldn't be able to share it with anyone outside of this place but... he would know. At the very least. And suddenly he very much had to know. "I've heard stories of volcra. Are all of you so-" He fought for a word to describe the creature in front of him. 

"Intelligent?" The volcra offered, and Y/n dared to smile. It made the creature of darkness and nightmare glare, eyes narrowed and lips pulled back. The creature seemed halfway between a bat and a man, and the features weren't quite right for human expressions, but it had been a volcra for a long time, hadn't it? It had learned how to communicate just fine. He motioned to Y/n's father, who Y/n was ashamed to realize he had completely forgotten in this moment. "Do you want to free him?"

This seemed to be going wrong. Like when someone scripts an interaction in their head and banks on it, only for the actual thing to go completely differently. Or perhaps it was that after so many hundreds of years, this creature had come to expect a specific exchange. Y/n's reaction was not one he had expected, or had come used to seeing in the least. That filled Y/n with a little bit of pride.

He focused on the older man still on the ground, frozen in terror as his eyes locked on the volcra. There was nothing but horror in his eyes. Like he was already seeing the thing that came after death taking him away forever. This man couldn't last in conditions like this for much longer. How long had he been here already? Oh god. "Yes," Y/n replied, his voice breaking for his father. He looked back to the volcra, desperate. "Do you have mercy?"

That seemed to make the volcra even angrier. "Not for humans."

Y/n's eyes widened. "He's not a human! He's a durast."

The volcra scoffed. "He has not displayed any signs of being a grisha. This is not a place for humans, it is a place for-"

Y/n's feet spread apart as he took a sturdier stance, his hands moving through the air to call upon his small science. His fingers laced together and brushed past each other several times, shapes being made and then unmade just as quickly. His father, on the ground, seemed to immediately improve. Color came back into his face and all the little scrapes and wounds on him closed and healed, as if they'd never been there. There was some kind of mark on one of his hands - an infection - that faded and healed. There was a slight redness about his face, maybe a fever or from crying, that went away. His breathing evened, even his anxiety resting as his heart was healed and his body began to hurt less. The relief was, for a moment, even greater than the fear.

Looking up at the volcra, Y/n's shoulders squared. "I am a healer. I am a grisha. This is my father, and he is a durast. My mother was a tailor."

For a second, the volcra paused, eyeing Y/n. It was impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking, but it didn’t seem to matter. His voice had not changed when he spoke again. “You being a grisha is not proof that he is," The volcra simplified. "And you saying he is isn’t proof either. Why won't he do it himself?"

It was immediately obvious this volcra hated humans more than he loved grisha, which he seemed to. Which made no sense, as a grisha had created him. Right? Hm. "My mother got caught in a machine he made and it killed her. He swore off his abilities ever since, and has been on the run from those who would persecute him." 

The volcra nodded, satisfied with this answer. "He won't be persecuted here."

Y/n pursed his lips, looking down at his father. The man's eyes were wide at the conversation happening in front of him. Stunned by Y/n's willing showing of power. No. He didn't hate Y/n, but he did fear the grisha power. He would never open himself up to his abilities again. Like Alina, his father was lost in fear and self rejection. He could have never even accessed it if he tried. This power was not possible if you did not accept it as part of yourself. "I cannot prove that he's a grisha," Y/n sighed. He looked back toward the volcra. "But I will vouch for him. Let him free, and I will take his place."

"No!" His father screamed.

For a moment, the volcra seemed stunned. "You would stay here in his place?"

Y/n nodded without hesitation. "I am younger, more flexible. I can handle these intense conditions, both mentally and physically. I can heal myself. You can keep me as a healer. Even if he was a durast, he's useless to you. There's no industry here, just ruins. But a healer? That's useful no matter who you are or why."

"No," this time his father begged. He reached through the bar, taking Y/n's hand. Y/n turned to the older man who looked at him with the most unhinged desperation. "Please don't do that Y/n. Not for me. Not ever. Please don't make me leave my child in this place. I beg of you."

This would take a different approach.

As if crumbling finally under the pressure of the moment, Y/n fell to his knees. It was easy to summon the heartbreak. The fear of losing his father. The hopelessness of never seeing him again. "You expect me to do it instead? To leave you?"

"I'm an old man, I've lived a long life. And I won't live much longer. You have your whole life ahead of you. You still have so much to experience. A father should never live past his own children." He squeezed his son's hands. "Please understand."

Y/n nodded, internally mourning his poor father. Not because he would lose him, but because god forbid this man ever understand how truly lost his son was. It would break him. Y/n would never marry, and that freed him more than it terrified him. If he left this palace now he would go back to the village, bound by duty, and he would stay there forever. Maybe it wouldn't have been too late to marry Makya... No. That life was not for him. He had felt more alive in the moments with the volcra now behind him than he had in his entire life combined. Even if this was the last time he saw another living face. Even if the volcra left him in the cell to rot after Y/n's father was gone. Even then, this actual cage would be better than the one he was currently in. 

Turning to the volcra, Y/n looked for that mercy he had searched for before, but for him this time. Not his father. "May I say goodbye to him? Hug him, one last time?"

Something unreadable played in the volcra's gaze, but he nodded. "Once it is closed again, it will not open a second time." As if by magic the door popped open and Y/n pulled it out of the way, moving into the cell before his father could get out, and held him desperately. The hug was tight and full and both of them shook with the weight of the knowledge they'd never see each other again after this. His father kept thanking him, kept telling him he was loved and that every one of his last days he would hold onto his most beloved son.

Y/n smiled. "I know." And then he pushed his father outside of the cell, the older man stumbling - too slow to stop as Y/n slammed the cell shut. He closed his eyes, hanging his head. "I came with another man, Philip. He'll be upstairs, hiding from you or perhaps looking for me if I lost him. Make sure he gets home with my father. He'll need help with the farm."

The old man panicked. "NO!" As the word tore through him as he reached for his son. But it was too late. Darkness wrapped around him and he was torn from the room. The volcra didn't even move as Y/n's father was swallowed and dragged down the hall and away from the cells. Y/n turned sharply as he heard his father's screams fade and then return, this time from a window that opened above him to the outside of the castle. Y/n watched in silence as his father and Phillip, now both bound together in darkness, were sent even further from the castle and out toward the opening of the Fold itself.

Y/n prayed they would quiet before they got out. That they'd realized if they came in they'd be killed immediately and it wouldn't save Y/n anyway. He prayed that they weren't found coming from the Fold, and that they'd get away before anyone had the chance to recognize his father. He hoped Alina forgave him for never returning. He hoped...

And then suddenly he stopped hoping. He had hoped for all the things that were possible, and now all he had were the things that would never happen. He'd never be free again, he'd never see the sun again. He'd never see his father or his friends again. he would never travel again. He would never even see the rest of the castle - he was stuck here forever. In this cell, where he would die.

This time when he fell to his knees he stayed there, head low and arms limp at his sides even as he yearned to hold himself. "I should have told him the truth." And he knew that was a lie but it tore through him anyway. "I didn't get a proper goodbye." A sob tore through him as the shock wore off and the wonder faded and all he was left with was a dull, throbbing hopelessness that shattered him completely. From his periphery he saw the volcra fade into darkness and disappear.

Now he was truly alone. He had never been so alone before. It was horrible, he decided. He lay on his side in the dirty cell and closed his eyes, the tears falling silently as his body shook. This was all he had now... he didn't realize how much he'd been blessed with until it was gone. But I suppose that's how it always goes, doesn't it?

-

Time passed. He wasn't sure how long. Then he noticed movement from the corner of his eyes and looked up, surprised. He was still a bit numb. The single blue fire was not as powerful as it might have been in this room where the only feeling he was allowed was despair. He had leaned against the wall, knees curled up to his chest, arms on top and chin resting on arms as he stared at the fire move back and forth. Perhaps that was why he spotted the deeper darkness.

The volcra had returned.

"You..." It stopped, and Y/n looked up with knitted eyebrows, confused. It seemed to be trying to be... cordial? "I assume you do not like it in here."

What a stupid question. "Why would I like it in here?"

The volcra bristled. Y/n probably shouldn't be trying to piss the thing off but he was too lost of hope to care what happened to him now. "Well - that's why I'm here. To offer you a proper room. If you want."

Y/n narrowed his eyes. "Am I not a prisoner? And therefore belong in the dungeon?"

The volcra nodded. "This has always been a place that is safe for grisha. I... have not had guests in a very long time." He paused. "Do you want the room or not? Choose  your own place here, and if you choose this room I will not return."

For a second, he almost said something snarky. However, whatever the reason why, he was being offered a boon. So he stood carefully, his body aching and sore. "I don't want to be in here anymore."

"Right. Follow me then." It turned and raised a hand before it began moving down the hall. The cell door swung again, and Y/n hesitated before following. It was so normal. So human. So weirdly nonviolent. 

"I probably shouldn't push my luck," Y/n began without meaning to start at all. "But... you seem not quite as monstrous as the stories would suggest."

A hum from the creature leading ahead of him. It was hard to decipher without facial expression or body language, but Y/n thought it might have been something bitter. "They've always seen grisha as monsters." When he stopped there Y/n thought he was done, but then he spoke again after a minute. "The magic rebounded when it was cast. Volcra were born of people. Non-grisha, nearby. But there are things here that were grisha. Because of what happened, grisha got punished more harshly."

Y/n started, eyes widening. "More harshly than being a mindless killer?"

All The volcra did was nod. "When you're told you're a monster your whole life and then you actually become one that is a different story. Especially when the people who called you monsters actually are one now, and you're indiscriminately associated with them. I look like them, so I am one of them, and their acts are mine. It's not even human versus grisha anymore. It's everyone versus volcra." He swallowed. "And grisha are still the most hated. Not only can we not help them, they are being rid of one by one. If not eradicated completely, too scared to be who they are. Like your father."

A horrible feeling settled into Y/n's gut. "Small science is so connected to one's being. If you were truly afraid of your power, or hated it-"

"You could not use it." The volcra turned to look at Y/n, a darkness there even deeper than just the color. Something haunted was in his gaze. "There is no difference between non-grisha and those who could be grisha but choose not to be. They all hurt grisha kind equally."

Y/n's gaze went a little blurry. "That's why you didn't kill my father, but still had no mercy for him."

"Yes." He turned back, but did not keep walking, instead motioning to a door in front of him. "This is your room." He opened it, turning the knob with clawed hands that were so large and so sharp that it made Y/n's breath catch in his throat. "You will stay here. Do not leave the castle itself - there are volcra out there and they will not spare even a proud grisha."

Y/n almost went into the room in silence. But then he turned in the doorway, looking up at the volcra. "You're from when the Fold was formed, then." The volcra only nodded. "But you're a shadow summoner."

There was a long pause. "Yes, I knew the Black Heretic."

Immediately Y/n's eyes widened. "What was he like?"

The volcra looked down at Y/n with narrowed eyes. "As mad as they say he is."

Ah. That made sense at least. Of course grisha hated him, and of course non-grisha hated him too. Of course the very first victims of the Fold would hate him above all. "Right." He turned, going further into the room, and the door snapped shut. Not slammed, not aggressive, but that was even worse. There was a finality to that door being closed. Like it would never open again.

Y/n took in the room in front of him. It was simple in decoration, but the architecture was beautiful. There was a window that stretched into eternal darkness that Y/n thought had once shown a gorgeous view. Now there was only the glass between Y/n and the things out there that would kill him in a heartbeat.

The room was light by the blue light, more than anywhere else in the palace had been thus far. There was a four poster bed, and a desk to write upon, a nightstand by the bed. There was also a chest to hold clothes that Y/n opened, surprised to see clothes in it. They weren't covered in dust. That didn't surprise Y/n much. What dust would have entered the Fold where not even light went? Where only air was brave enough to exist.

There was also a small bookshelf that reached Y/n's hip. He reached to them, his broken heart forgotten for a moment at the prospect of new books. Ancient books that may hold secrets of the past. That most certainly would hold secrets of the past, actually. Y/n opened one and realized it was in old Ravkan. He wasn't fluent, but... It seemed to be a storybook. A tale of real magic - not just small science. As he looked through the shelf, most of the books seemed to be on those subjects. The second shelf underneath was full of notebooks. Designs, which were easier to navigate than words. There were some notes. It seemed to be notes from a durast. The bottom shelf was full of stories of grisha. Some of them were familiar - stories of darkness and ruin. Of madness and danger and warning. The grisha had gone insane with power and consumed a village in fire or stolen a young girl or something along those lines.

Most of the stories though were regular tales of different kinds of grisha, though. Y/n soon realized that every single book was dedicated to a different kind of grisha. A sailing story about tidemakers. A story of people with mechanical wings who were squallers. A survival story in the cold with inferni. A race to the finish with daring escapades done by a healer. A battle to protect the innocent starring heartrenders. A world of royalty and drama featuring a poor boy who was helped by a tailor to escape his abusive family. A world of the future, powered by industry, with a bunch of durasts fighting for the heart of power that drove the city. One story of an alkemi who created life one fateful night. A sun summoner who brings the dawn every morning, and lets the moon have the sky every night. A shadow summoner who protects those who run and hide from dangerous things and seek to find refuge and safety.

Y/n was entranced. he had never seen stories where people like him got to be the good guys - even if they weren't the main characters. It was stunning.

"Those used to be from a man I liked."

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Y/n swiveled around and looked for a source of the voice. No one else was in the room. He sunk into the wall a little bit, eyes wide with worry. "Oh no. I'm already going insane."

A chuckle caught him off guard. It seemed to be coming from the wardrobe he hadn't paid much mind to when he'd come into the room initially. Was there someone inside?

"I knew that it would be difficult to introduce you to the concept of sentient objects so I thought it best to rip the bandaid off and start from there." Y/n's jaw dropped as at the top of the wardrobe, where two designs whirled, moved as if blinking, the two sides of the oval coming together and then moving apart. Between them, further down, just above the two doors that would have opened to reveal clothes, was a small arch that rose from the top of the opening. When the wardrobe spoke, that little opening moved like a mouth.

"How-" He couldn't form a thought enough to ask a proper question. There were too many, too suddenly; he was immediately overwhelmed.

The wardrobe chuckled and Y/n took some quick steps to move closer, inspecting it from a better angle. "I believe the Darkling mentioned that non-grisha were turned into volcra, and grisha did not?"

Y/n sputtered for a few seconds. "But! He's a volcra!" It had clicked that this darkling must have been the volcra who had lead him here, and the wardrobe didn't argue. "I thought all of you would be like him."

The wardrobe hummed in understanding. "Yes I thought I would put an ending to that as soon as possible. My name is Genya, and I am one of many grisha whose consciousness was put into an inanimate object. And here I've been since the Fold was created."

Y/n blinked a few times. "How is it that a magic born of darkness made something... cartoonish happen?"

Genya smiled warmly. She seemed amused by this whole ordeal. “It does not matter who cast it - it was magic. Chaos, corrupting. It changed things; as an attack on humans, but as a protection in grisha. So here I am, not a monster, but not a human either. I cannot be harmed… so I suppose the magic did its trick.”

“I suppose.” He sounded half horrified, half curious. That seemed to amuse her too. He suddenly snapped out of it though. “Didn’t you say you were grisha?” She hummed in confirmation. “Which one? Please, I beg of you.”

Genya considered him a moment, and then answered him, watching closely. “A tailor.”

Whatever reaction she’d been expecting, she seemed to be surprised by his shining eyes and wide smile. “Amazing,” he breathed. His words were too thick with awe to be doubted. He didn’t pause to think about it - he had more questions. “May I meet more grisha? I have so many questions - I’m desperate to know everything. Perhaps you can tell me about them? Or perhaps just yourself, and I can pester them another time. Since…” suddenly his light died. “Since I’ll be here now.”

It was hard to read Genya’s subtle expressions on the strange face but she seemed to grow sad, maybe piteous. “I can give you a rundown, and then you might have some starting idea as you slowly meet everyone.”

Y/n hummed mindlessly, suddenly distracted. “Yes, tell me.” He needed a distraction. Genya seemed to see that and indulged him, even if all she might accomplish is to give him an alternative thing to focus on.

-

The knock came quite some time after Genya finished, which is how Y/n knew he had been in this room for quite some time. He didn’t feel tired yet so he slipped out of bed and opened the door, part of him expecting the Darkling.

When he saw no one act first, he once again wondered distantly if he was going insane. Then he heard a voice. “Uh, down here.” His eyes fell to the floor at his feet, and there was a candelabra and a clock. Like Genya, their builds and designs made humanoid shapes and even little faces that allowed them to emote. The one who had spoken, the candelabra, waved with a soft smile. He flipped back through the names and descriptions he’d gotten from Genya.

“You’re Fedyor, aren’t you?”

The candelabra grinned. “Ah you’ve been briefed.” He spoke gentle and smoothly; it was incredibly soothing.

“Partly,” Y/n offered. “I asked Genya and she was kind enough to give me the beginners guide.” He tried to mimic the soothing nature and simply fell short. His eyes flickered to the clock. “So that makes you Ivan, then?” The clock simply nodded, and Y/n returned the gesture. These two worked directly with the Darkling. “Why… are you here?” Had he decided to change his mind? Were they here to escort Y/n to his death?

“Dinner,” Fedyor answered. “We’d like to encourage you to take more freedom around the castle, perhaps give you a tour. After dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Y/n shifted awkwardly. He honestly didn’t feel hungry at all… probably a bad sign. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

Only then did Ivan speak. “Be our guest. We want you to be comfortable here. We don’t often get guests, it’s an honor to have you. Especially someone so proud of your abilities. Seeing a proper grisha again, it’s special to us.”

Y/n was honestly touched. The man spoke in a flatter voice than Fedyor, but had its own smoothness and calmness. Like he was firm, dependable. Like you could fail and it would be okay because he had your back.

“Okay. Lead the way.”

Ivan and Fedyor brought Y/n through the castle and into a large dining room with a long table full of food. They stayed nearby when Y/n sat down and began eating, keeping him company. At first. Their casual back and forth came to a grinding halt when Y/n looked up and the Darkling was at the other end of the table, watching Y/n eat.

The man paused, swallowing his bite. “It’s rude to sneak up on someone. You could have announced your entry at least.”

The Darkling raised an eyebrow. “I do not answer to you.”

“I didn’t give you an order, I made observations.” Then he caught himself, looking down at the table. “My apologies. I have always… had problems keeping my temper.” As much as he was losing his need to hide, he had not yet lost his will to survive entirely.

The Darkling seemed to mind less than Y/n thought he would though. “Don’t apologize. All grisha should have as much bite as you; it’s admirable to see. Encouraging.”

When he continued simply watching Y/n eat, the man paused. “Are you not going to eat yourself?”

“Not in front of you,” the Darkling answered. Y/n hesitated, but then nodded. The Darkling leaned forward. “You had questions about grisha. I can answer them, if you’d like me to.”

At first Y/n was hesitant. It was still scary to speak about all of this openly, and he was very unsure about all these people and their exact intentions and character. But he was getting answers, and for the moment it distracted him just enough to really launch into his most thorough attempts at getting answers.

He wanted to know everything, and the Darkling was more than happy to fulfill that desire with every bit he knew.

Be the time dinner ended, Y/n was buzzing with information. He asked for an empty notebook he might be able to write this all down in, and was provided with one. He left dinner and raced his room without even thinking, and thought for just a moment he caught the Darkling smiling out of the corner of his eye.

Impossible of course.

Volcra didn’t smile.

It did convince him that this place might not be so bad after all, though. He would never see his family again and his dreams were crushed… but he was free, in a way. He was a grisha here, not a farmer’s son. Not a weirdo. Not a nuisance or good for looks and nothing else. He mattered here; he was part of something.

Even if his friends were household objects, he enjoyed them. The duster named Zoya, and the piano, David. The oven, Fruszi, and even the kettle. Baghra kept glaring at him, but even she seemed to respect him for his control over his abilities despite being self taught.

Maybe there was hope for a life here yet.

-

Male readers: @sortzz @gardening-guy-round-2

Story: @cleverzonkwombatsludge

[shawty-writes-a-little]

Wedding theatrics

general Kirigan x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k+

summary: they’re just both SO toxic but apparently married

Warnings: angst, sexual puns, cheating, toxic marriages

Most star crossed lovers don’t see their beloved after the fall for their love. Unlike Aleksander and his lady wife, who were still married. Years of marriage, marriage that began with a tender young love, blissful start which was dragged to the point of knives at each other’s throats. What began from the blossom of chivalrous lovebirds, went from lovers’ quarrels to outright battle enemies.

Their spitefulness of each other made them question if the love they once held for each other was a mere illusion. Aleksander truly felt betrayed by his intuition, being around this long, how could one make such a lovesick mistake of marrying perhaps the most perfervid, torrid, frustrating, soul crushing vulture of a woman in all of Ravaka. Y/n too, felt the same of him yet stupid, wasted the brightest of her youth after him. How could she have known though? The beginning, prime of their relationship and then marriage was all she’d ever wanted. She married the man she of her own choice, unlike those ladies of court who’re married off to some lord of some place. The general was all she’s hoped for and more. However with time, their clashing opinions of councils brought distaste into their married life. Aleksander tried to change that, separated her unit from his entirely so their decisions wouldn’t interfere. It was fine until one worked later than the other, half a fortnight worth of nights were spent sleeping alone. For the time being at least they weren’t fighting the rest of the time they were together. To love someone is to fight to fix the bothers. Until the war took place, it was all blissful again.

Worse battles were fought behind closed doors and council meetings between the lady general and the general himself.

“It is all my fault!” Aleksander exclaimed throwing his hands in air to portray exaggeration “You cannot handle authority whatsoever-your decision making power is like that of an illiterate toddler with a pistol and I have given you a seat at the council!”

“Shut your hole. Shut your hole will you?” Y/n said with a scoff as she crossed her arms not even slightly phased by his insult “You know all this melodrama because I refuse to send off more first army men for you to lead into slaughter? And who do you account yourself for? It is my father’s armies and my house’s role in warfare…I’ve had seats and bigger councils than yours!”

“All you’ve ever had to do for that is simply…be born. Given your skillset and mental capacity y/n, you wouldn’t even make a good peasant.” Aleksander responded, this entire scene unfolded amongst the other men of the council. There to discuss camps and aid management, who stood awkwardly in their places unsure wether to intervene or not.

The others present in that room was perhaps the only thing that stopped the two from giving to the sensual frustration all these arguments built between them. Aleksander spewed insults as his mind raced about devouring her on that very table, that is what generally shut her up. Him as well. “How dare you?!” Y/n seethed and lunged the wine glass in his direction. The red liquid poured over the torso portion of his kefta, y/n meant to drench his face but mistakenly aimed lower. Regardless she put the glass down at the table as he scorned.

“Have you lost your mind?!” He exclaimed, her antics never ceased to surprise him. Holding his drenched undershirt away to keep the wine from seeping further.

“Do not test my patience then” Y/n replied mildly neither of them having least bit of decency to behave affront the other council members. Aleksander’s men and hers has probably seen worse of the two.

“It’s a first army battle, we’ll have the first army men fight it.” Aleksander spoke sternly, he was just biased and before y/n nobody objected to his ways.

“Well then let the first army counsel handle it” she said with a shrug, “get out.”

“Excuse me?” He raises a sharp brow, “you don’t tell me what to do.�� not hurt just amused, no one had ever in all his life spoke to him in such manner and he’d never been in a position to not do something about it.

“I am telling you what to do, you are the second army general, get out.” She said putting it simply with no frowned face nor harsh tone she was merely stating it, “Take your men with you, Ivan, come on” she gestures Ivan across the room to leave as well. Ivan, more scared of the lady general than his general was already walking to the door but stopped just a few steps before it receiving a disappointing look from Aleksander.

“You are impossible to reason with.” Aleksander said to y/n sighing deeply as he stormed out of the room.

“Thank you very much for your insight.”

With time and more harsh acquaintances, even that stopped, words like daggers stopped as their exchanges stopped entirely. The two completely separated their councils and meetings. Not to interfere with the other, different timings and finally different chambers. Their heated quarrels turned into mandatory distasteful greetings here and there at galas and dinners.

The two left each other to themselves. Their marriage became a sham held in name, annulling it wasn’t an option given both of them held their societal status to a high regard. Y/n didn’t pay much attention to fixing whatever it is they had, as feisty as lover her husband was she found it difficult to match up to him and fight for them, so she ran from that fight in a different direction entirely. Filling his absence with her ever loved status, her mere sign was an important piece of paper to a lot of lords and noblemen of country, counsels she’d been a cupbearer for her father when she was younger-she had one of her own now. She filled her lover’s absence with the authority and work load of her title and she did not hate it entirely.

Aleksander was rather hurt, constantly trying to mend the effect of flown words in all wrong ways. She wouldn’t account for his flowers after he’d demean her and her opinions at court. All his chivalry would amount to nothing after a point, he thought y/n was coldly unforgiving but he never considered the fact that the repetitive cycle of his actions that hurt her were…repetitive. He hated how she’d lost hope in the two of them, their marriage. The thought that she couldn’t care enough to restore what they once had scorned him from the inside because he’d never found himself in a place where he cared more than the other person did, in a long time. He was ready to resort to anything if she’d look at him with her eyes without any resentment again. Anything to laugh in her presence to cherish her the way she used to let him. Apparently he was forced to drift apart, against his will as she indulged herself in her work and titles. The battles and the country issues, selfishly enough he found the battle of her want inside of him far bigger than the ones going on time and time. Aleksander felt half painted by the love and affection she once showed him, it was as if she never continued. She was the despaired painter of the tapestry that was him.

Resorting to lowest of lows when nothing seemed to phase his wife, he resorted to infidelity. Just to see if she’d care then. If he spent a night or two in the embrace of another woman she’d be in an anguish of wanting him back and make this better with him. He assumed the knowledge of it could upset her enough to realise she still loved him enough to find the thought of him with someone else displeasing just as he would if it was the other way around. A part of him broke when even that didn’t seem to phase her. She didn’t initiate to mend things between them she just became more distant than before. As if him cheating didn’t concern her, the thought that she was that detached to him hurt him to a point of resentment for her. Aleksander emoted in extremes, the sight of her even in hallways irked him. He hated being that insignificant in the life of the lady was who was wholly the moon of his life even in a wretched house of a home he had in her. The windows of that home seemed forever shut for him.

Y/n was fixing the last of arrangements in her absence as she was on a trip to one of the neighbouring states for a wedding of one of the lord’s son. Being so intertwined in her work she generally didn’t attend such events: weddings, christenings, funerals. Not unless it was somebody of importance or close, most weren’t. Connections helped being Ravaka’s politics like all. Aleksander attended neither kind, important, unimportant, he always regarded himself higher than these petty gatherings of life and death. “And if a scroll comes from-“ she was standing by the entrance of the carriage, instructing a servant about something when a figure barged inside right past her as if she wasn’t standing there causing her to turn. Her expression fell at the thought of whatever new tantrum of her husband that was to unfold “What are you doing?”

“What?” Aleksander asked mildly as he took a seat inside, he was cloaked and dressed as though leaving for somewhere like her. “I’ve got a wedding to attend.”

“No you don’t.” Y/n said as she opened the door to the carriage a bit wider and leaned by it, “I am going.”

“And?” He asked raising a brow, the invitation always came on both their names but he never did as much as look at those fancy ones, waste of time.

“I am going so…you’re not. I’ll do well to fill in for your absence there.” She said gesturing him to come out of the carriage. The last thing she’d want was to go to the neighbouring state with him, the wedding was to last a couple of days like it usually did for the Royal ones. She was to stay at the castle, the thought of having to share chambers with him was dreadful.

“The wedding invitation was sent out to: General and family. Now I’m sure they wouldn’t be disgracing me considering an animal such as you my family but well…” he took in a sharp breath sighing in exaggeration.

“What reason do you have to attend?” Y/n asked furrowing her brows as she crossed her arms, “You never attend such things, what was it again? ‘I’m far too important and busy for wedding theatrics’” she said quoting him from a conversation they’d had about this once before.

“I have relations to maintain.” Aleksander gave a sly excuse with a shrug.

“No you don’t, you don’t maintain those, I do.” She said sternly crossing her arms. It was true, y/n attended these theatrics often so the general and his wife don’t seem too egoistical.

“And?” He said again, he knew those short unbothered questions-for-answers really got under her skin.

“Aleksander.” Y/n exhaled “You have no reason to attend, you once called the groom a wee clown with hay for brains.” She reminded him of his unfiltered encounters, he had so many and she remembered almost all given she had to clean up after it.

“Did I now?” He took a pause to remember it, he was sure he certainly did but this ordeal was getting a rise out of her so he couldn’t help but enjoy it “Can’t seem to remember. Besides I haven’t paid my in laws a visit in such a long time…” he trailed off, his ultimate reasoning was that. Around her family y/n was rather reserved with him and not as distant and crass because she wanted them to think she was really happy in the marriage with Aleksander. He didn’t see why he wouldn’t use that to his advantage.

“Oh” Y/n nodded as she put it together, this bastard, “You will be creating a scene there now won’t you…” she scoffed deadpanning herself, if her family wasn’t attending she’d bail right this second. So disappointed yet amused how good he played this. “Saints”

“Are you done with your interrogation?” Aleksander asked as he leaned back in the seat making some space for her to climb in but she rolled her eyes and walked away commanding to have another carriage for her, surely she wouldn’t be riding with him for an entire day worth of journey.

-

The carriages halted at an inn by the countryside, they’d already been riding for eight hours by then. Ivan was seeing to a safe supper being prepared as y/n stood by the small coal fire pit along with Fedyor and Genya. She was telling her red hair something about the countryside winters when David’s face fell to frantic expression, “Lady y/n.” He said with a gasp as he stood to her side trying to keep her from a view “it’s—saints I apologise but don’t look-the general…it’s not the best sight I would suggest-“ David went off as if it was end of the world. Given how reverse psychologies worked y/n and genya both looked back at the moment David told her not to.

Aleksander was only a few steps away, conversing with one of the maids of the inn, his fingers twirling through that girl’s hair, saying something that made her giggle, he too was smiling, as he stood rather too close for a married a man. Regardless y/n didn’t bother stare a moment longer as she made a disgusted face. Not hurt or angry, just mildly uncomfortable like any other person but a wife “what of it?” She said to David raising her brows and averting her attention back to warming her hands by the small fire, Aleksander was not that far off to not notice that his wife noticed and paced to them, “His scandals don’t bother me…” she trailed off with a shrug “What can you do? He is cheap like that.”

“Who is?” The general asked as he walked closer and in front of her by the small fireplace.

“You.” Y/n replied without missing a second.

“Ah yes of course” he said with a nod as David and Genya, shared an awkward glance at one another, excusing themselves with having to help Ivan and Fedyor they left not wanting to be witness the exchange between lady general and general. “Do you think the colourful language you use for me will do well with your mother and father at the wedding?”

“Why are you talking to me?” Y/n asked with a sigh looking away hoping he would leave her to herself as well, she was having a fine enough conversation with genya and David before he ruined it.

“Just curious…if you’d like we can keep this up at the wedding as well. Surely my in laws would be happy to know the state of our beautiful marriage.” Aleksander said tilting her head.

“What is the matter with you?” Y/n asked with a sigh as she looked at him, “Do not create a scene of any sort at the wedding, especially in front of my parent alright?”

“What? I want us to be perceived the way we are what’s wrong with that” he teased, the two often posed as a couple who could stand each other and were remotely in love for such events.

“Do you always have to show your class Aleksander?” Y/n asked as she narrows her eyes at him, “I don’t find this amusing, my father is eight and seventy years old I don’t want him to think his daughter is not in the best marriage possible.”

“Surely they lack of grandchildren will attest to that.” He joked huffing at it, the look she gave him clearly didn’t reciprocate how funny she found it “don’t get mad now we can always change that…” he said in a hushed tone leaning forward.

Y/n felt repulsed by it, whispered swooning and leaning as if she didn’t just see him trying to get it wet with an inn girl. Did he really believe she was another one of his low life subjects. She found the mere thought of intimacy with him sickening given it was something once they held sacred and the moment things went down hill he found it elsewhere. “Bloody degenerate.” Y/n muttered as she attempted to leave but he held her back by her arm, she was stopped from leaving but the glare she shot at his hands holding her bicep, took him a moment to let go off her.

“Apologies.” He said, not clarifying what exactly for. “I shall try and be-“

“Just don’t be the manwhore that you are for three days? Is that difficult?” Y/n asked cutting to no nonsense. He was impossible to deal with and like she mentioned, classless and cheap in her eyes.

“Am I supposed to feel threatened by you?” He asked with a scoff, not minding the particular word she called him, it wasn’t the first time so. When she didn’t reply but just looked at him confidently that she wasn’t just playing about with her words and he knew well enough she could make him more miserable than he already was if she wanted to. He sighed and complied “Fine.”

-

Upon reaching to the wedding castle, the grandeur was already being set up for the three day function when they entered y/n jumped into her father’s arms, her mother too, brother, her young nephew most of the family members she grew up with and only ever got to see in long time gaps. Aleksander just smiled, making small greetings since he had promised to comply. The sight of her, giddy and affectionate to the people she’d meet once a year and yet so rude and distant to her husband she saw everyday brought a dejecting feeling to him. And she looked beautiful that happy, she looked like herself again. Why couldn’t she have that with him? Why couldn’t they?

Once they two were shown their chambers for their time being at the wedding y/n sighed as the servant shut the door behind them, her smile fell. “Wonderful” she sighed as she looked around, a small table, giant balcony and one bed. The addition of cold in the atmosphere simply made it worse for her, same couldn’t be said for Aleksander.

—

HAIIIIIIIIIIIIII this is NOT a series this is just a two parter but the next part will be ANGSTY as fuck with fluff end if the comments grace me with their choice and feedback on this amskskskskksks anyways have a good day

let me know if you want to be tagged in the second part!

[moonlightgrisha]

Show me

Ch. 6 He knows who you are, now, and he wishes to know you better. [Masterlist] Previous - Next

Your new room is beautiful, even more than your apartment in the Grand Palace. The view is beautiful too, on the courtyard and the surrounding wall, and the windows are not even sealed closed, meaning he doesn't think you could, or want to escape.

You sit there, looking at the refined tapestry on the wall, uncertain whether or not you should feel a prisoner.

You met Genya, a few hours ago. You had just shown to your new quarters, and the General was gone. He had been silent, and polite, and mysterious enough to drive you crazy.

But you knew Genya. You already met her while she was attending the Queen. You always liked her, and the two of you also gossiped a little, during those endless receptions.

She found you wandering around the room like a caged creature. She had brought some lunch with her, and she smiled. "I thought you could use a friend", she said.

"I didn't realize we were friends", you replied, with a hint of hope.

"Well, how convenient I'm determined to be one". She sat down at a small table in front of the window and gestured to the chair in front of her.

"Did he send you?" you asked, sitting down.

"Of course he did", Genya replied. "It was the most sensible thing to do. But it doesn't mean I'm not genuinely interested in how you are feeling now. Or curious to know what happened".

"I guess I do have a story to tell", you said.

You told her everything, and you felt relieved.

Genya listened, and fell silent for a long time once you had ended you tale.

"You are safe, here", she eventually said. "You can be what you are".

"You mean a weapon?" you replied. "A valuable tool, for them to use? Because that's not what I am".

You immediately realized you had struck a nerve. Genya lowered her eyes, and seemed to drift away, but just for a moment.

"We all have to endure, if we wish to be eventually free", she concluded. She sounded so wise, and she was right.

"Am I his prisoner?" you asked, right before Genya left. You both knew who you were referring to, and there was no need to explain.

"He will say you are his guest", she whispered. "But actually, you are what you make yourself".

She paused, and before walking out the door, she said: "He wishes you joined him for dinner, tonight. That's why he sent me in the first place".

Your heart missed a beat. "You can tell him I will be pleased to accept his invitation".

It felt the right thing to say, but now, as you wait for someone to come and take you to him, you are not so sure anymore.

You hear a knock at the door. You rush to open it. Ivan, the Heartrender, the General's right hand man, is there.

You follow him through the unfamiliar corridors of the Little Palace, suddenly feeling a little homesick. There's life behind all those closed doors you are passing by, people just like you, blessed or cursed with strange powers, and you wonder if you'll ever be part of their world, or if you'll just stay forever in between, being neither Grisha, neither otkasat'sya.

Ivan opens the doors of the General's quarters, then disappears.

The Darkling welcomes you in.

He wears is black kefta, but the collar is unbuttoned. He is dashing like a prince, and you proceed to ignore him and his piercing dark eyes, while you make a few steps inside the room.

It is comfortably warm, the walls are filled with bookshelves and maps, and candles have been lit in every corner. There is a small table set for two, and he gallantly moves the chair for you to sit on.

He knows how to behave around royalty, and you remember you are a princess. When he sits in front of you, you look haughtily down at him and say nothing.

"I trust you found your quarters comfortable", he says.

"Yes, they are suitable", you answer. You also manage to add: "Thank you", but it doesn't come easily.

Dinner is exquisite, and you haven't eaten much the whole day, but you struggle to enjoy it as you would in any other occasion.

You notice there is only water on the table. "No wine?"

"I like a clear head", he replies. "Although, occasionally, I might indulge a little fog".

"But not tonight".

"Not tonight".

You stare at each other and you feel the urge to say something, anything to break the silence.

"Of course. You must need a clear mind, to interrogate me".

He chuckles. "Interrogate you?"

"Isn't this the purpose of it all?" you make a gesture to the table. "I deceived you, and I would, still, if you hadn't exposed my secret so... easily. Actually, what was that? I didn't even know I could summon in the daytime".

"I amplify other Grisha's powers".

"Simply by touching them?"

"Simple as that".

You raise your eyebrows, considering it. "How unconvenient. People must have tried to use you too".

You expect him to reply, instead he says nothing. When you look at him, he's staring at you, but he seems to have drifted somewhere else, deep in his memories.

"That's what you'll do to me", you add, trying to ignore the fact that your words might have resonated in him more than you wished for. "You'll use me to gain power, victories or whatever it is that you crave".

"You paint me quite the tyrant", he replies, sharply. "And to think you don't even know me".

"And you don't know me".

"Yet, you assume you know my... cravings".

You might have blushed.

"Fine. That was quite unfair. Those weren't your words, after all. They were the King's".

He stands up, like the only mention of the King has made him restless. Maybe he has ran out of his patience. You are almost going to dismiss yourself, when he stops by the window and speaks again.

"I was wondering if you could show me".

"Show you what?!"

He turns to you. "Your light".

You are almost speechless. "You have seen my light".

"Not really", he answers. "That was me, calling it for you. But tonight is a fine night". He looks out the window again, his shape barely lit. "A perfect, bright full moon".

When he turns, he's looking hopeful. You feel a knot in your throat.

But deep inside, you are inexplicably excited.

You raise your hand, just a few inches above your leg, as you are still sitting down. You can feel the full moon like a limb of your body, and it's easy to let it come to you.

A ticklish, sparkling light emerges from your palm. It moves towards your wrist, flickering, then it slips down on your knuckles.

The Darkling stands frozen at the window frame, like he's suddenly unable to talk, or move, or be anything else than hypnotized by your evanescent, soft moonlight.

Then he approaches you, but slowly, like he's afraid you'll take it away if he comes too close. For a moment, you enjoy the thought of having that kind of power over him.

But reality surpasses your fantasy, as he kneels down in front of you.

You are face to face now, and you get lost in his eyes, darker than the night itself, filled with unsaid promises, and mysteries you can't help but wonder. He doesn't stop looking at you, while he lifts his hand, placing it a few inches above yours.

Darkness comes floating out of his fingers, like black waterpaint, so softly you wouldn't even think of its deadly power. It surrounds your sparkles of moonlight, but instead of suffocating them, it makes them glow even brighter.

It's like a small galaxy has found its place beneath his hand and yours.

It seems he could stay like that forever. And, damn it, you could too.

Instead, you ask, with the faintest whisper: "Am I your prisoner?"

He answers quietly. "You are my guest".

Something breaks inside you. You close your fist, and just like that your moonlight is gone.

His shadows dissipate like smoke from a candle, as you stand up from your chair. "It was a most... instructive evening. I am quite tired, now, and I wish to rest".

He stands up too, and walks you to the door like nothing has happened. You successfully keep the same blank face, ignoring the weird heartache that's tearing you apart.

"Goodnight".

And so you are back to reality. Back to the beautiful room that might be a prison, if you decide it is one. The window next to your bed gives you the best view on the night sky, and you wonder if that's why you were given that room in the first place.

The moon reminds and remembers. It is never gone, it only hides. Whatever happened tonight, it won't be gone tomorrow. You extend your arms above you and let the light come back to you, just because it feels good, and ask yourself if he ever does the same with his shadows.

Hi everybody. I hope you are enjoying this story so far. Please remember English is not my first language, and that I'm writing purely for fun. If you appreciate my work, please like, repost or leave a comment. You'll make my day! See you next.

Taglist @budugu

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Shadow of the Past

Request: Please do “You can’t love anyone. ‘Cause that would mean you had a heart.” with the darkling from Shadow & Bone series. Requested by anon.

Warnings: slight violence, mention of torture, emotional manipulation, angst.

Word Count: 1 K.

Fictober Challenge

Just as you were about to close your eyes and give up from being brutally tortured, you saw a bright light flood through the door of your cell. You raised a weak hand to shield your eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the light dimmed.

“Did you miss me?” a familiar voice asked, smooth and taunting. No, this couldn’t be real. It couldn’t possibly be him. You blinked, your vision still blurry, and there he was- Alexander, squatting before you with that signature smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re dead. I saw to it myself” you spat, your voice hoarse, eyes narrowing as you glared at him. 

His smirk only deepened, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes “And what if I am?” he leaned forward, fingers reaching to brush your face, but you turned your head sharply to the side, recoiling from his touch. 

“Does that mean I’m dead too?” you asked, your glare never leaving him. 

“No” he said as he rose to his full height, his tone turning cold “But you will be soon” he began pacing around the cramped cell, his steps deliberate, calculated. “It’s just a matter of time.” 

You kept your eyes on him, your heart pounding despite the weariness pulling at you “What are you doing here?” 

He stopped, glancing  back at you with a cocky drin that made your stomach twist “I guess you still need me, even in your darkest hour.”

“I don’t need you” you scoffed, though the weakness in your voice betrayed you “You’re dead and I’ve been doing fine on my own.” 

He raised an eyebrow, the grin never leaving his face “Have you? Look at you” his gaze swept over you, his voice dripping with disdain. “You disappoint me. No one is coming to save you. After all that training, you are still a failure, Y/n.” 

You scoffed again, but the insult stung “I guess I take after you” you muttered, letting your head fall back against the cold, damp wall. Your eyes fluttered shut, hoping to block him out, if only for a moment.

His smirk faltered, frustration darkening his features “So you’re just going to give up like that?” his voice had an edge of irritation now.

You slightly opened your eyes, glancing at him “What if I do? It’s not like you can do anything about it.” 

His expression hardened, eyes narrowing, offense flashing through them “Are you just doing this to spite me?”  

You gave him a sad smile, though your heart felt heavier than ever “Even if I wanted to, that’s not possible anymore.”

His jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. He couldn’t take this anymore- couldn’t take the way you were wallowing in self-pity. “Y/n, get up” his tone shifted from condescending to firm. 

You lifted your head slowly, meeting his gaze with defiance in your eyes “Why?”

“Because I said so” he snapped, nostrils flaring, his fists shaking slightly from the force of his anger.

You chuckled bitterly “I don’t listen to you anymore, remember?” 

His patience snapped, and he gripped your shoulder before you had time to react “Then I’ll just have to make you then” The world around you shifted, your cell disappearing, replaced by a hauntingly familiar scene. 

“Wait, wait, what did you do?” fear flashed across your face as you looked around. Panic gripped your chest, your voice trembling.

“I’m showing you your most painful memory” he said, his voice calm but with a cruel edge. You recognized the place instantly- the moment you last saw him alive. 

“No, stop, please” you begged, your hand grabbing his, desperately trying to push him away. You needed this to stop, whatever it was. 

His hand remained firm on your shoulder as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear “Don’t be afraid. Look” his voice was commanding, but you squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to see. “I said look!” he shouted, and the sheer force of his voice startled you into compliance. Your eyes snapped open, and you were forced to relive it- the moment you killed him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you sobbed, unable to tear your gaze away from the horrific scene playing out in front of you. 

He circled you slowly, coming to a stop just behind you “Remember why you did this, why you killed me” his voice had softened now, turning eerily calm as he leaned in and whispered in your ear “You have to finish what you started.” 

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “But I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” your voice cracked as you spoke, the exhaustion, the guilt, and the hopelessness finally catching up to you.

He moved to face you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You have to, because if you don’t, then all of this was for nothing.” he leaned in closer, your faces inches apart, his voice merely a whisper Then my love meant nothing to you.” 

Hearing him say that and being forced to watch as you killed him again made something snap inside you. “You can’t love anyone, Alexander” your voice wavered, but there was a steel edge to it now “‘cause that would mean you had a heart.” 

He recoiled slightly, the cold amusement in his eyes flickering. You wiped a stray tear from your cheek and pushed yourself to your feet. “You’re right about one thing though” you continued, your voice growing stronger, “I have to finish this. My guilt was consuming me, but you-” your eyes burned into his “Oh you showed me that it was not my fault. You had to die so that everyone else could live.” you said, the weight of your own words settling over you. 

For the first time in what felt like years, the tight grip of guilt loosened its hold on your heart. You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, as if releasing all the pain you had carried. You looked at him one last time- the man who once held your heart. Though you still ached from his loss, you were finally ready to move on. “Goodbye, Alexander.”

[unabashednightmarepizza]

The idea of writing healer!moon summoner!reader with Kanej... GET OUT!

I was happy with my little bubble of Harry Potter, where the fuck did Shadow and Bone come from and completely took over my brain?

[leclerc-drives-in-circles]

No but imagine

Laying on aleksander's chest while he sleeps so incredibly peacefully and you're just barely awake and you hear a knock on the door to your shared bedroom and it wakes him up and now you're angry because he was so adorable and sleepy when he was passed out but someone HAD to wake him up and now he is confused as to why you're pissed and so you have to explain that you enjoyed seeing him so peaceful and comfortable in your presence.

I wish this was real.

[sevensjesper]

Book One <3

I decided to make two profiles for Alina because she's a completely different character between the start and end of the first book alone.

'I'm sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.' - Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

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

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

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

word count: 1607

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

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

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

“I-I do?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

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

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

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

“Be a good girl and take it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[hottpinkpenguin]

"Just because all the others never showed you love doesn't mean no one ever will." This one with the Darkling with angst to fluff? Like maybe he keeps pushing the reader away because he's new to affection and doesn't know what to do?

A/n: this request felt so spot on for our favored tortured villain <3 thank you for the message anon!!

Darkling X Reader Word Count: 1656 | Warnings: not proofread, brief mentions of battle, hints at past abuse if you squint, super angst turns to tooth-rotting fluff

Note: dorogoy is the Russian for 'sweetheart' “Leave us.” 

The Black General strode in, his eyes murderous and his fists balled at his sides. Despite the warm summer night, the chill in his voice was enough to send a shiver up everyone’s spine. The two Healers rose from the sides of your cot where they’d been tending your injuries. They bowed quickly and kept their eyes glued to the ground as they scuttled out of the tent, leaving you and the Darkling alone. 

When the sounds of the retreating Healers’ footsteps had been swallowed in the gentle murmur of the camp outside, his eyes finally met yours. He looked as if he were about to break apart, his body practically abuzz with barely contained rage. 

“Aleks, I’m fine,” you chided him, rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “It’s just a burn. I’ll survive.”

Darkness blossomed around him, swallowing the dim candlelight on the inside of your tent. His jaw was clenched so tightly you worried he’d break a tooth, the veins in his forehead pulsing as he tried to regain control of himself. You’d seen his power a thousand times, but even still it startled you. You smoothed your face into a mask of calm, refusing to show him your instinctual fear. 

“You almost died, dorogy.” He sank down on the edge of your cot as the shadows receded into him like water soaks into a sponge. “You are decidedly not fine.” 

You smiled at him, shifting slightly to make room for him on the cot next to you. He was watching you, his eyes drinking you in. You could hear his next question before he even asked it. 

“Are the Healers treating you fairly?” The whisper of a threat hung off Aleksander’s words. You knew that his fear was that the other Grisha would shun you because of his affection for you. A fear you’d tried to quell a thousand times before. If only he knew how terrified the others were of hurting you, of disappointing you, or of otherwise mistreating you… 

You reached out, running your fingertips lightly along the back of his hand. He watched you, waiting for an answer. 

“They’re treating me perfectly,” you assured him emphatically. “I have everything I need.” 

He didn’t respond immediately, transfixed by the circular patterns you wove along the back of his hand. His eyes glazed over, his shoulders dropping slightly as he let the facade of the Black General relax in your presence. You watched him carefully, wondering how he managed to maintain such composure and control in the midst of battle. You’d seen him out there, on the battlefield: an avenging angel, all rage and cruelty, his black kefta fluttering like a flag, cutting down wave after wave of Fjerdan. He’d barely flinched, barely shown any sign of his powers draining him. It filled you with a strange combination of sorrow, pride, and lust. 

“Aleks?” Your voice, though quiet and gentle, snapped the moment like a dry twig. He looked up at you expectantly. “Are you alright?” 

You could tell as soon as the words left your lips that you’d said something wrong. He recoiled away from you as if he were the one that had been burned. His eyes widened in a mixture of shock and horror, followed immediately by self-loathing. You reached out, but not quick enough. He rose from the cot, stepping away from you. 

“How can you ask that of me? After what you saw today? After what I put you through? You want to know if I am alright?” His composure was unraveling, his dark eyes turning into bottomless pits of fury with nowhere to go but inward. He’d once told you that the most unexpected part of living so long was the extent to which he had come to loathe himself. You hadn’t understood it then, but now you caught a glimpse of just how deep Aleksander’s malice towards himself actually went. 

The shadows sprung from his fingers with ease, devouring the tent’s light and swarming around you like bees. The air around you crackled with their presence, although they didn’t touch you. Across the tent, consumed by a darkness so complete he almost vanished entirely, Aleksander shook with the explosive force of his power. His chin was tipped back and his mouth open as if screaming, although the only thing pouring out of his throat was more darkness. His eyes lost their whites, now just two blackened sockets, lifeless and unholy-looking. 

Terror seized you. Your heart jolted as adrenaline ricocheted through your veins. You knew Aleksander would never hurt you, although you weren’t sure how much  of the man you loved was still with you in that tent. 

You called out to him, but somehow your voice vanished in the space between you two. As if you’d been plunged underwater, your scream sounded distorted and dull. Aleksander didn’t even flinch. 

Wincing through the pain, you flung your legs over the edge of the cot. The shadows made way for you like a river parts around rocks. The hairs on the back of your arms and neck stood up straight, your instincts screaming at you to run! Leave! Kill him! Get out! 

Summoning your strength and with a sharp inhale, you forced your legs to hold your weight as you stood. The burns that climbed up the left side of your body from your kneecap to your jaw felt white hot, but you grit your teeth against the urge to pass out and took a shaky step forward. Again, the shadows pouring out of Aleksander moved to allow your passage. A distant part of you idly wondered what the rest of the camp could see, if anything, of the spectacle unfolding around you. 

Your feet almost slipped out from under you in the damp grass. Your reflexes dulled by exhaustion and pain, you lost your balance and pitched forward. You struck out with your arms to brace your fall, twisting your face away from the direction of impact. There was a moment of free fall before you felt strong arms catching you, artfully avoiding your burns. 

Aleksander lifted you easily off your feet in a sweeping motion. You didn’t open your eyes until you felt your back settle against the cot. When you did, a familiar face hovered over you. All trace of his shadows gone, all you saw now was a man. A leader, a saint maybe, a King certainly: but a man still, exhausted and confused. 

Before he had a chance to speak, you pressed a finger to his lips. Your head was spinning with pain, but you forced yourself to stay present. 

“I’m not afraid of you, Aleks,” you insisted. You held his gaze defiantly, challenging him to argue with you. For once in his stubborn life, he held his tongue and let you finish. “I don’t resent you for who you are. I don’t fight because you command me as my general, or even because you ask me as my lover. I fight beside you because I love you, and I believe in what we’re doing.” 

For all his wisdom, you knew that there were parts of your heart that Aleksander would never understand. You’d accepted as much a long time ago. But you’d be damned if you let him rip himself apart over it. 

He swallowed thickly, as if trying to take in what you’d told him. 

“I don’t… understand. How you can feel that way. About… someone like me. Someone who is what I am. There’s… sometimes-most of the time- it doesn’t seem like there’s enough left of me to love.” You let him finish, his words coming out chopped and halting. It seemed to take almost as much out of him as his powers did, and the sincerity with which he spoke made you smile gently. When he was finished, you reached up and cupped his cheek, your thumb carefully tracing the ragged volcra scar that bisected his cheek. 

“Aleks. Just because all the others never showed you love doesn’t mean no one ever will.” 

You watched as his memory clicked into place, recognizing the very words he’d said to you the night he’d finally gotten you to tell him about the others. The men before him. The ones who’d tried and failed to love you, and the ones who’d only wanted to hurt you. Those had been the words he’d said, and the reason you’d fallen in love with him. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been waiting to give those words back to him. 

He marveled at you for a moment as if seeing you for the first time before he spoke. “I wasn’t talking about any others,” he said quietly. 

You shook your head, smiling. “Of course you were,” you answered. “The other lives, the other versions of yourself. That’s all you talk about because it’s all you know. You’ve lived with yourself for so long you’ve forgotten that there’s any way to feel about yourself but hatred.” 

You let your hand drop, a sudden wave of exhaustion crashing over you. He noticed, catching your hand halfway down and guiding it to the top of your sheets. 

“Dorogoy,” he started, hesitating a moment on the pet name he’d given you. “Where have you been all my lives?” 

You beamed at him, finally hearing a break in the tension of his voice. He smiled back - not a broad smile, but enough to touch his eyes. 

“Right here, Aleks,” you replied as you let your eyes drift closed for sleep. 

You didn’t let yourself fully succumb to rest until you felt his warmth lay down next to you, his arms ever so carefully snaking around your torso. He tucked you closer to him, and you buried your head in his neck, breathing in the scent and the feel of him. You felt yourself slide off into sleep just as he started singing you an old Ravkan lullaby…

[marvelmusing]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Pairing: Modern!Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you find yourself with nowhere to live, your friend Alina offers you the perfect solution - her Uncle Aleksander’s empty townhouse. What you don’t know is that Aleksander’s security cameras watch your every move, and Aleksander himself is almost instantly captivated by you.

Warnings [18+]: smut, dom!Aleksander, reader is staying in Aleksander’s house (supposedly) without his knowledge, subtle mafia vibes, power play, voyeuristic vibes from Aleksander, unspecified age gap, reference to oral (fem receiving), slight cnc vibes (no verbal consent but a safeword is established), smidge of size kink, very subtle hints that Aleksander wants children, he’s quite intense but she’s into it.

A/N: happy christmas everyone!

My Masterlist

Aleksander receives an alert the moment his front door is opened. One glance at the screen of his phone reveals that Alina’s key card had deactivated the alarm system.

It isn’t unusual for her to invite herself into his townhouse in one of the affluent boroughs of the city. He rarely uses the space himself, preferring his smaller apartment in Central Os Alta due to the vicinity to his workplace. What is unusual, however, is that she has company today.

Aleksander has an extensive number of security cameras and microphones placed throughout his home. It helps to ease his paranoia and sate the need to control his surroundings. He doesn’t tend to check on Alina when she visits, leaving her to her own devices, but your presence has his interest piqued.

Alina doesn’t bother to take her shoes off, per usual. But you do. After dragging your feet over the doormat - twice, one foot after the other - you tug off your shoes, placing them neatly beside his shoe rack before hurrying to catch up to Alina as she heads towards the kitchen.

He’s proud of the townhouse, a space he had curated as a safe haven for himself and a currently non-existent significant other. Seeing you stare, lips parted as your eyes drink in the furniture and decor in what seems like awe, has a warmth gathering in his chest. He will admit, your admiration of his house is rather adorable.

Curious, he unmutes the sound on the security feed, just in time to hear your voice as you ask tentatively,

“You’re sure your uncle won’t mind?”

Alina opens up a cupboard, retrieving a bag of snacks which she examines with a small frown, before she rips the packaging open and begins to munch on the treats inside. She shrugs through a mouthful.

“He barely ever stays here.”

“But you did ask him… didn’t you?”

Aleksander vaguely remembers Alina mentioning a friend of hers that needed a place to stay. What he doesn’t remember is giving her permission to accommodate said friend in his house. But he watches Alina nod, scrunching up the bag as she finishes her snacks.

“He wants someone here to receive his parcels,” she says, tossing the crumpled wrapper towards the bin. She misses.

He doesn’t order anything to his house. All his parcels are delivered either to his work or his apartment. The townhouse is his hidden treasure, though strangely he doesn’t loathe the idea of letting you stay there. Perhaps he should place a few harmless orders, to aid Alina’s lie. Something inconspicuous, that you might enjoy, like a monthly flower subscription. He likes the thought of you assembling a cheerful bouquet in his living room.

“And you’re sure he doesn’t want any rent,” you say, picking up Alina’s rubbish and placing it in the bin. You’re already a perfect houseguest, though he hopes you might be able to feel comfortable enough to relax in his house.

Aleksander almost feels offended by your suggestion and is relieved when Alina shakes her head.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell him I’m the one staying here. Besides, you’re like my sister. What’s mine is yours.”

“Even your Uncle Sasha?” you ask with a shy smile and this tiny glimpse at your humour has Aleksander wanting to devour you.

Alina grins.

“Especially him.” She pushes away from where she’s been leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’ll give you the password to his grocery account. Order whatever you like.”

That nervous expression returns to your features.

“Are you sure?”

“He gives me an allowance that I never use. You can have it.” She opens one of the kitchen drawers, rummaging through the contents despite Aleksander’s meticulous organisation. It doesn’t take her long to find what she’s looking for. “Here’s a key card to disable the security alarms and the wifi password.”

Aleksander watches you take the objects slowly, holding them in the palm of your hand before closing your fist around them protectively. Alina gestures upwards towards the rest of the house.

“Pick whatever bedroom you like best.”

Unknown by you, the moment you choose Aleksander’s bed to sleep in you become his.

»»---------------------►

As the owner of the internet router at his house, Aleksander can see what sites you visit while using his internet - a power that he abuses fully. He enjoys the insight into your thoughts and interests. The questions you have about the world and the things that make you happy.

During his lunch one day, Aleksander is scrolling through your recent search history when he spots something interesting. His name. Initially just a google search. Then you had examined his Instagram and Facebook, before moving onto his company website.

He’s tempted to pull up the security feed and rewind it back to the moment you had first typed his name, just to see your reaction to what you’re seeing. Especially when he sees how long you had spent reading the tabloids and swiping through images of him. It seems he has captured your attention.

»»---------------------►

It takes a small nudge from Aleksander for you to stop buying only the necessities during your grocery order. Just a few small taps of his thumbs and he adds enough random baking supplies for you to perceive it as an accident when it arrives.

One day, Alina visits him at work, a small box of cupcakes tucked under her arm. Instantly, he recognises them as one of your creations. He had watched you bake them yesterday head bobbing to your music as you had decorated them with an adorable frown of concentration and a smudge of buttercream on your face.

He waits until she leaves before cracking open the box, allowing the sweet sugary scent to invade his senses. The moan that escapes him during his first bite is obscene. He wonders whether your cheeks would flush with heat at the sound. His mind wanders, thinking of kissing the cream off your cheeks.

Aleksander finds himself imagining what it would be like to come home to you, the house warm and inviting as you await his arrival with a sweet treat and an eager smile. He would sink to his knees on the kitchen tiles, slide your skirt and apron up to your waist so that he can kiss your pretty cunt until his name is the only word you can manage.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander hates seeing you cry. But that job of yours was doing you no good. Waking up early to catch the bus and arriving home so tired that you don’t have enough energy to cook yourself a hot meal. Now, after Aleksander has pulled a few strings, you can sleep for as long as you like and spend time creating food that brings you joy.

He has already logged onto his grocery account and amended your weekly order to include a few recipes you wanted to try and some additional treats in an attempt at lifting your spirits. All he wants is for you to be happy.

He’s sorely tempted to go to you now. To wrap his arms around you, hold you against his chest and kiss the crown of your head while murmuring reassurances that this was for the best. He doesn’t like seeing you so despondent. He wants his happy girl back, who tends to the flowers and reads curled up in his armchair beside the fire.

He could just go to you. It’s his house you’re staying in after all. But he doesn’t want to rob you of your safe place. If he turned up now, he knows you would feel pressured to leave, even when you have nowhere else to go. His sweet girl, so terrified of taking up too much space. One day, very soon, he will be able to appreciate you how he longs to.

»»---------------------►

He thinks you might be trying to kill him.

Aleksander’s home gym is a room occupied by a treadmill and a few stray pieces of equipment that he hardly ever uses, there to fill the space he hopes will one day be converted into a nursery.

Currently, you’re stretching yourself out over a yoga mat he didn’t even know he owned, twisting your body into a rather enticing position. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you, shifting in his seat to alleviate some of the ache in his throbbing cock.

Whilst he’s glad you’ve found another hobby to fill your time - and the thought of your improved flexibility pleases him - he almost wishes he hadn’t checked in on you. Now, he is going to have to sit through a meeting and resist the urge to continue watching you.

»»---------------------►

Once a week, Alina stays over with you, spending the evening catching up and talking about all manner of things together. Aleksander likes to listen in while he’s working, imagining that he’s actually in the office across the hall from the living room.

Alina’s suggestion of a blind date for you makes him stiffen, lifting his eyes away from his papers and onto the screen. He’s somewhat glad that you seem apprehensive.

“I thought you didn’t like Mal?” you ask Alina, fidgeting with the edge of the velvet cushion in your lap.

She shrugs.

“Just because he wasn’t right for me doesn’t mean he won’t be right for you.”

Aleksander can say with absolute certainty that Mal is nowhere near the right man for you. He can remember when Alina was infatuated with the boy. If he strings you along like he did with Alina, Aleksander won’t be able to stop himself from interfering.

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t be mad, but I might have already made a reservation for you.”

“Lina!”

You swat her with your cushion - almost playfully - but Aleksander can see your anxiety in the set of your shoulders. To hell with not interfering. He mutes the sound on the screen, picking up his phone and dialling a familiar number.

“Zoya, I need a favour.”

»»---------------------►

He needs to play this carefully. With Zoya’s intervention at the bar where Mal was meeting his friends for a drink beforehand, he will never make it to your date. Aleksander needs to leave you waiting long enough to be relieved by his arrival, but not so long that the rejection damages your self esteem. From a corner of the restaurant, he watches your face carefully.

Each time a waiter appears, he sees you grow a little more agitated, fidgeting with your fingers as you insist that your date will arrive soon. It’s only once he sees you inhale shakily that he decides to pick up his coat and stroll over to your table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Embarrassment touches at your features as you glance up at him, then the tables surrounding you as you seem to assume he’s asking to take the chair to his own table. He watches your lips press together before you shake your head and gesture defeatedly at the chair.

“It’s all yours.”

He smiles widely, draping his coat over the back of the chair before he sits down.

“Thank you, milaya.”

The look of surprise on your face is delightful, even more so when recognition sparkles in your eyes.

“Mr Morozova.”

He’s exceptionally proud of the feigned confusion he spreads over his features.

“Do we know each other?”

“You’re Alina’s uncle.”

“Yes,” he says, the hint of a question at the edge of his tone. Ducking your head bashfully, you tell him your name.

He repeats your name slowly, as if it is the first time he’s ever spoken it, trying to ignore how wide your eyes are at the sound of your name on his lips.

“Alina mentioned you were looking for a place to stay in the city. Did you manage to find somewhere?”

You seem startled at the thought of him remembering you.

“Oh, yes. I did, thank you.”

He smiles. Alina had lied to him, telling him that she was the one staying at his house. Whilst he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, the urge to make you squirm a little pokes at him.

“Do you like where you’re living now?”

He watches you shift nervously in your seat, but your response is earnest.

“Yes, I do,” you admit quietly. “It’s lovely.” He hums indulgently, hoping you might continue speaking, and you nod. “One of the nicest places I’ve ever lived.”

He wants to keep you forever.

Instead, he offers to buy you dinner, which you agree to after a little convincing from Aleksander. He asks for your order, calling the waiter over to place it for you both.

Now that you’re front of him, after watching you through a screen for so long, Aleksander can’t look away from you. In such proximity, he can observe every minute detail. The way you fidget with the charms on your bracelet. The way you attempt to be subtle when you glance at him, only to find his eyes already on you.

He drinks in the sight of you, warmth in his chest as you tuck into your meal. He will admit, he pays little attention to his own plate, choosing to watch as you eat eagerly with soft sounds of pleasure in response to the taste. All the while, he coaxes you into conversation and by the time you’ve finished you seem much more relaxed in his presence.

Aleksander leans back in his chair, swirling the wine around in his glass with nimble fingers. With a polite gesture to the waiter, he orders another bottle of wine. When the waiter mentions dessert, Aleksander raises a questioning brow at you. He can see the nervousness creep into your eyes at the thought of asking for more.

After you refuse his offer, he orders a plateful of dessert that he intends on sharing with you. When it arrives, he takes a few mouthfuls for himself before he offers a spoonful to you.

“Come on, milaya. I bought it for us to share.”

When you relent, leaning forwards to take the spoon from him, he retracts his head, pulling it out of your reach.

“Ah, ah. No hands. Let me.”

After ducking your head bashfully, you look down to avoid his gaze and Aleksander can see how flustered his words have made you. Still, you nod obediently. He moves the spoon back towards you, feeding you the dessert when you open your mouth for him.

He stares as your eyes flutter closed and you hum in delight at the rich taste with a pretty smile on your face.

Saints, you’re so perfect.

Aleksander pays the bill. He keeps his hand on your lower back as you walk to the entrance of the restaurant. He frowns at the sight of goosebumps prickling over your skin.

“Where’s your coat, milaya?”

“Alina gave me a lift here and I left it in her car.”

He tuts quietly in disapproval.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” Aleksander places his coat over your shoulders, thick wool draped over your frame to shield you from the cold. He smiles at the sight of you, helping you tuck each of your arms into the sleeves. “There we go.”

You give him a bright smile and begin to play shyly with the buttons at the front of his coat.

“Thank you.”

“Let me give you a lift home.”

Immediately your smile falters and you refuse his offer.

“Oh no, I’m fine walking, thank you.”

“You’re walking?” The moment you nod he begins to shake his head. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not living in the city centre. It’ll be too out of your way.”

“Nonsense.”

“Mr Morozova-”

“Call me Aleksander, please.”

“Aleksander,” you state slowly. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“I’m not going back to my apartment tonight.”

There’s a waver in your voice as you say,

“You’re not?”

He shakes his head.

“I have a house not far from here.”

He watches the internal struggle play over your face. Realisation. Anxiety. Words scrambling from your mind to your tongue as you attempt to create a confession. Sweet girl. Always so honest.

“Aleksander, I…” He watches you wring your hands, the sleeves of his coat covering all but your fingertips. “Alina’s been letting me stay at your townhouse. I’m so sorry for not telling you.”

He doesn’t respond.

Instead, he smiles at the valet, standing behind you as he waits for the man to retrieve his car keys. Leaning down, he presses a pacifying kiss to your temple, smoothing his hands over each of your shoulders, stroking your biceps. He can see the confusion in your eyes at his reaction.

“We’ll discuss this at home, darling.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, though he doubts you would ever openly disagree with him. He feels you shiver at the command in his voice and a thrill runs through him at the thought of you enjoying the role he has picked out for you.

The short walk to the car is silent, a few stray snowflakes beginning to fall. Aleksander keeps his arm around you, ensuring you don’t slip on any ice. He holds the passenger door open for you and keeps his hand on your thigh for the entire journey, ignoring your squirming.

“Aleksander,” you whisper. “I really am sorry.”

“Not now, milaya. Let me concentrate on the roads.”

He feels your skin flush with embarrassment at his condescending tone. The snow has quickly covered the world in white, thick flurries falling faster with every passing moment.

When you finally return home, he slips his coat from your shoulders, hanging it up in the hallway as he nods at your shoes, a silent order for you to remove them. With the height of your heels gone, you seem so much smaller than him as he looks down at you.

“I do not tolerate lying, milaya.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr Morozova. I can move my things out now-”

He presses his thumb against your mouth, index finger curling under your chin.

“I do not want to hear another word from those pretty lips of yours. Safeword is shadow. Understood?”

Excitement sparks in your eyes as you realise what is happening, and when you nod obediently Aleksander feels his cock throb. He knows you will enjoy this. He knows your preferences - what you search for when you’re eager to get yourself off.

“Good girl. Now go pour me a drink.”

Aleksander settles down on his favourite armchair in the living room, watching as you unlock the alcohol cabinet and pour him a small sample of whiskey, the liquid falling smoothly into the crystal glass. He stretches his legs out; his knees always ache during the cold weather. Soaking in a hot bath with you is certainly an enticing thought - perhaps for tomorrow evening.

There’s a slight tremble to your fingers as you hand him the glass.

“Thank you, milaya. Be a dear and take my shoes off - I can’t reach them too comfortably at my age.”

With fumbling fingers, you manage to untie his laces and loosen the shoes away from his feet, slipping them off easily enough. The sight of you between his thighs, kneeling on the ground is utter perfection. He smiles down at you, stroking his knuckles over your cheek.

“There’s a good girl. Place them in the hallway for me?”

In the time it takes you to move into the hallway and place the shoes down on the rack beside his front door, Aleksander has freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and underwear, hissing slightly as he grips himself.

When you return, the sight of him has your footsteps faltering in the doorway. He leans his head back, watching you through hooded eyes and a tense jaw. He sees your eyes widen, like a little deer in headlights. He sees your gaze flicker down to his exposed cock and your thighs tremble as they press against each other.

He tilts his head at you.

“Come sit on my cock, milaya.”

A slight shake of your head.

“It won’t fit.”

“Yes it will. Come here.” Still you don’t move. “I won’t ask again.”

His tone has you stumbling forwards.

As you struggle to straddle his lap, he pushes the hem of your dress, velvet smoothing easily upwards to reveal bare skin. The underwear you’re wearing is nice, though he knows you own much prettier sets. That knowledge reassures him that you hadn’t intended on sleeping with your date tonight.

Retrieving his drink from the table beside him, watching you with a self satisfied smirk as he lifts his glass to your lips.

“Some liquid courage for you.”

He breathes out a soft laugh when he sees your nose wrinkle at the taste; evidently you must have swallowed more than you were anticipating.

“Now let’s have a look at what we have here,” he muses, pushing the gusset of your panties aside to reveal your glistening cunt, flushed and glossy with arousal. A perfect little mess. “Have you been in this state since we arrived? Or during the car ride home?”

He can feel your body burning as you admit,

“Since dinner, sir.”

“Oh sweet girl, have I left you wanting?”

“Please,” you whisper weakly. He brushes the head of his cock over your quivering entrance, grinning at the sound of your whimpers.

“Let’s start with the tip, shall we?”

He begins to ease you onto his cock, stretching you out slowly and a small cry escapes from your lips at the sensation. Sweat glistens over your chest as you heave in a few hurried breaths.

Aleksander praises you with every inch, telling you how perfect you are as you writhe and buck against his hold. Once you’re fully seated on his cock, he runs his hands over your thighs soothingly, encouraging you to relax as your cunt continues to twitch around him.

He tugs the front of your dress down, revealing your breasts for him to fondle freely. His hands wander over your body, squeezing the sensitive flesh. Almost absentmindedly, he begins to play with your nipples, pressing kisses from your forehead down to your jawline.

“Such a pretty sight. How are you feeling, my love?”

“So full,” you whine, on the verge of tears. “So good. Aleksander.”

“That’s it, darling.” He holds onto your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

A weak shake of your head that doesn’t convince him. He suspects you can’t even convince yourself that you don’t want this. Nevertheless, he can’t help but argue with you.

“Who’s been housing you, and feeding you, these last few months?”

He watches your expression crumble in defeat, giving in to your desire.

“You have.”

“That’s right, milaya.” He grasps onto your hips, encouraging you to begin bouncing on his cock.“You have no idea..” The feeling of your cunt squeezing him like a vice makes him groan, hands gripping your trembling thighs. “…how difficult it’s been to resist buying clothes for you as well.” His words are breathless, panted out against your lips as he presses your foreheads together. “Dresses and skirts and pretty lingerie sets. But we have a wedding to save for, don’t we?”

His question seems to catch you off guard, as an obscene moan is ripped from the back of your throat. He rolls his hips upwards, notching the head of his cock against that sweet spot inside you that makes you clench violently. Something akin to a sob heaves at your shoulders as you tremble.

“I’m going to spoil you, darling. I want my ring on your finger. I want you in white lace and diamonds.”

Aleksander moans at the feeling of your nails digging into his arms through the fabric of his shirt. He keeps one hand on your hip, occasionally stroking the tense muscles of your abdomen, the other hand cupping your face so that he can kiss you.

He sees your toes curl, calves twitching as your cunt pulses an erratic beat that makes pleasure rocket down his spine. Aleksander moans your name softly, over and over until you’re shaking with overstimulation as you near your climax. When you begin to plead, he hushes you soothingly.

He knows you haven’t touched yourself in quite some time. He knows that the orgasm you’re seconds away from will unravel you completely. He can’t wait to see it.

“Let go, milaya. I’m right here,” he says warmly as he reaches down to rub firm circles over your swollen clit. “Cum around my cock like the good girl you are. Let me have you.”

Aleksander would consider it something of a religious experience, watching you lose yourself to pleasure. To see something so intimate, so sacred, in such proximity, when he has only ever seen you through a screen for months. The orgasm that hits you is lengthy, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body as your cunt pulses around him. Every movement, every sound you make, is so breathtakingly beautiful that he stares openly at you with his lips parted in awe. His beautiful girl. His.

That final thought is what pushes him into completion, spilling inside you with a deep moan. He looks down at where the two of you are joined, admiring the glistening mess there. He kisses your forehead as you slump down against his chest. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you stare down at the buttons on his shirt, fidgeting with them absentmindedly.

“I can leave, if you’d like,” you suggest in a quiet murmur. He places his hands on your lower back, keeping you pressed to him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You would freeze out there.”

Aleksander lifts you upwards, squeezing your hips gently as he does so, and his cock slips out of you. He leans forwards, kissing you again as he tucks himself back into his trousers. He sucks on your lower lip, dragging it lightly between his teeth as he buttons up his trousers with one hand.

“Stay,” he says.

The smile you give him is shy as you nod, whispering,

“Okay.”

He hooks his hands under your thighs, lifting you up into his arms. Instantly, you wrap your arms around his neck, coiling yourself around him as he carries you up the stairs.

Some of his cum slips out of you, as he lowers you down onto his sheets. He presses his fingers against your cunt, pushing his spend back inside you where it belongs. A quiet groan catches in his throat at the sensation of your warm cunt clinging to his digits, desperate to keep him inside. He curls his finger, pressing his thumb against your clit.

Aleksander grins when you cant your hips forwards mindlessly.

“What a mess we’ve made. Let me clean you up, milaya.”

Then he ducks his head between your thighs and enters heaven.

»»---------------------►

Aleksander nudges the front door closed with his hip, his hands occupied by shopping bags. He kicks his feet together to dislodge some of the snow stuck to the sole of his shoes, wondering if you’re still asleep.

He finds his answer in the kitchen; you’re dressed in one of his t-shirts. At the sound of him approaching you turn, wide eyed as he stands in the doorway, snowflakes in his hair. He notices your tears immediately, staining your cheeks as you sniffle.

“Milaya?”

“I thought you left me.” The words wobble on their way out. “I woke up and you were gone and I thought you’d left me.”

He lowers the bags, stepping towards you to take you into his arms. After the events of last night, it seems you’re in a somewhat fragile state. He folds his arms around you, giving your body a gentle squeeze as you press yourself tightly against his chest.

“The snow is getting heavy. I thought I would stock up on some essentials to last us until the weather improves,” he explains calmly. He hears how your breathing shakes with emotion. His clothes are still cold from his trip outside and you are delightfully warm. “As if I could ever leave you, my sweet girl.”

He kisses your forehead and your grip on him tightens.

“I’m here,” he murmurs gently, swaying the two of you from side to side as he strokes his hands down your body.

He ducks his head down, hooking a finger beneath your chin to tilt your head backwards so he can kiss you properly. His lips move slowly against yours, palms cupping your cheeks tenderly.

He ensures that you remain attached to him as he puts the perishables away, your arms looped around his neck and your body nestled into his side. Then he abandons the rest of the shopping, opting to bend you over the kitchen countertop, shoving his trousers down so that he can drive his cock into you.

He heaves a sigh of relief at the sound of your breathy gasp, kissing over your neck as you scramble for purchase against the marble.

“That’s it,” he breathes out with a smile, nuzzling his nose into the hollow of your throat. “Isn’t that better?”

Aleksander grips at your waist, dragging you towards him, delighting in your moans as he rolls his hips forwards. He curls a hand around your throat, squeezing lightly to bring your attention to his face. His nose grazes against yours as he insists,

“I meant every word I said last night.”

He leans in, kissing you throughly until he has to stop and breathe. Lowering his hand, his fingers circle your clit, causing you to jerk forwards with a soft moan as he sucks on your lower lip.

“I’m not letting you go, milaya.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

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Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

[shawty-writes-a-little]

From Eden 4.

[part1] [part2] [part3] [part 4]

darkling x brekker!reader

summary: feelings are heavy

word count: 3k

warnings: S2 shadow and bone, ep5 intoxication dreams, heavy angst, LONGING, English is not my first language x

An: I WILL update more frequently I PROMISE I PROMISE I PROMISE and NO this has nothing to do w that angry from Eden anon, but hey fucko if you’re reading this I still love you

Despite of what y/n promised Kaz, she knew she wouldn’t entirely stick to her word. For somebody who grew up in ketterdam honour was just another grey line ready to get bent to one’s will. Besides high ground all mighty morals isnt what Kaz raised her with anyways, she knew that if she planned to cross what she promised Kaz it’d be a reflection of perhaps just the way he raised her. At the moment she told herself frankly anything as they traveled for quest of the Neshyener, some of her big brother’s words did drip through her mind in a way, could it be she was that naive? Was she a pawn in Aleksander’s game, perhaps a useless one but still someone whose emotions he had amusement toying with? No. That could not be, Kaz didn’t have half a mind to know what he was speaking of and y/n knew Aleksander better than that. He wasn’t the best of men, he had his traits but he had always been a great lover to her per se and that is what mattered.

Pulling out of her thoughts when Tolya approached the three talking about how they should pray for their dead and what not, the rest where praying for their dead whilst Kaz, Jesper, wylan along with y/n stood on the side. Them not praying wasn’t a blasphemous just not that heavy on faith. Especially Kaz and Y/n. “We don’t have to worry about our dead, y/n here can well enough resurrect them.” Kaz taunted.

Most of the time y/n would talk back but she knew better than to create a scene again, “If I pay you will you shut up?”

Kaz scoffed, the source of their money was same nonetheless “How much and the answer is no regardless”

Choosing not to answer to kaz’s remarks y/n parted ways with a simple “I’m with wylan and Jesper” despite of whoever Kaz had planned to group her with, she didn’t give him time to answer as she paced with the two with slumped shoulders and crossed arms. Kaz doesn’t get to pick and choose what’s right and what’s not for everybody, all the time. She thought to herself grumpily, alternatively Kaz gestured Jesper to keep an eye on her, he believed he had lost y/n to the darkling’s manipulation for a long time—she’d be angry and whiny about his restrictions and ways but Kaz wouldn’t loose another one of his siblings to their nativity.

As much as y/n wanted to be present for the crows, in the plans and their ongoing troubles as well, she sensed something off between wylan and jesper she didn’t want to pry wylan and Jesper couldn’t get alone time with y/n to tell her about it, so in all it was just filling awkward silences with small talks. She could deduct it was probably some argument. It seemed petty as an outsider of someone’s relationship but she recalled being in that position once.

She went through it all once. The days spent with Aleksander hauntingly found his way back to y/n’s mind. She’d avoid sleeping so what she assumed was her own mind tormenting her with his dreams would stop. ‘But can’t you see I’m right here?’ ‘The saints couldn’t get me to leave you…’ ‘I am not leaving you, my world, I’m leaving neither.’ It felt frustrating thinking about those dreams where he said he hadn’t left and then reality struck that he actually hadn’t. Did they mean anything? Was the Aleksander in her dreams real?

If so, she was furious. Furious at the man who claimed to love her to ends and had her believe he had died. He wronged an entire nation and didn’t even tell her that. Conversations with him prior to it all came back like cold and sharp ocean waves. He’d talk of a greater tomorrow for Ravaka, everyday he’d work tirelessly camps to camps tracking one artefact to another. Not that he didn’t tell her about it, they would have lengthy conversations but y/n would’ve never thought he would be expanding the fold just like that. The signs were perhaps always there. It was rather wrong of her to be oblivious to it, she was the only person Aleksander was that open to. Maybe if she loved him less she could’ve known what he was capable of.

He’d told her of all wrong that was done by his hands, she foresaw them, lost them in the story of the boy she told him, the boy travelling town to town raised on a wretched fate. Y/n knew what it was like to grow up in burning houses, the flames never really leave you. She maybe didn’t condone what he did but she never even asked herself that. She didn’t want to at the time. Kaz’s words ‘Manipulated by your beloved monster’ made her glum thinking was he right? Surely not, the man who’d raise wars would come into her arms like the sweetest gift of life. His shoulders relaxed only in the moments he’d have his arms around her. The man who didn’t speak more than orders and council meetings would talk to y/n about his past, for a stoic man his love was ever so evident for her even amongst other people—gesture of his hand on the small of her back, his eyes scanning for a certain woman in the crowd, married…they were almost married. How could he possibly manipulate her? His love that intense like of a raging storm why wouldn’t Kaz understand that?

Aleksander did a bad thing, evil even. Her Aleksander, a traitor, rebel, the villain to them all, most dangerous thing but they don’t know how the most dangerous thing used to laugh. How he used to love. How he does, but y/n isn’t so sure if she could reciprocate it that way anymore. She knows she shouldn’t. She knows she shouldn’t even be thinking about him the way she did as of now. No.

Y/n has promised kaz and she had promised herself, she wouldn’t associate with him no more. He kept his motives hidden from her once and he could again if he succeeded. The world was against him for a reason. All the torment he inflicted wasn’t justifiable by her. She’d see him one of these days, for one last time and then wash her hands of him. He could live out his days in the wild or create a house of a fold for himself and she wouldn’t bother to care. It broke her heart not to care for Aleksander but she didn’t know any other way. She knew what she told Kaz but she promised not to go back to Aleksander, she won’t. Y/n will have to confront him once, she thought about it a lot, what it would be like, hold him by the collar and demand an explanation. Wish him the worst, bid him goodbye and then wash her hands of him.

—

With sundown y/n became more and more clearer of her thoughts. Firm she will close the chapter that was Aleksander. Currently she stood alongside Kaz as the crowd towered tolya who explained the map of inside the house. Kaz’s plan was to sweep from all sides for the neshnyar, as y/n attempted to accompany wylan Kaz yanked her back by his cane, “Remember what you promised?”

“That literal?” Y/n groaned about her promise to ‘not leave kaz’s sight’ straightening her clothes. That evening took a low turn actually. The metal doors clung close with a pang just in a few moments they were in. The red gas flew out of the walls of the small room they were trapped in, faster than they could register what was happening.

“So this is how we die” Jesper’s shaky voice was first to admit what everyone else was thinking. Y/n struggled against the metal doors still, thankfully her optimism didn’t run out before she dropped to the ground unconscious.

-

The air felt crisp against her skin as the gigantic window crept open. She remembered these chambers. They were the ones she shared with Aleksander back at little palace. Y/n found herself in a dress, even the dress she recognised. Before she looked in the mirror she could reckon the fabric, it was her wedding dress. Unsure how to feel about it she just stared at her reflection. Is this after life? Is this a dream? Or perhaps a nightmare? Is it real? Four striking questions she didn’t bother to look an answer for as she stared at herself. Before everything happened, she’d never really got to try on her wedding dress. She chose the fabric and the pattern and the work on it but things went south faster than the designers worked. With the fete there was barely any time for trial. But as she saw herself in the moment it was exactly like she’d imagined, never too big on fancies but it was her wedding dress. Even her hair was done so perfectly she could make no sense of what was happening. It felt so confusing and endearing at the same time. Finally looking away from her dress her eyes fell on the note by the mirror desk which read ‘The Gardens.’ In a handwriting she was afraid she recognised.

Picking up the hem of the dress she walked out the room, down the long stair case she rushed to find an explanation for which state of being she was in. The opening to the gardens were enlaced with flowers and veils. When she finally came to the gardens she found entire area decorated as though celebration of the biggest event ever. Benches surrounded what seemed like a wedding altar, above hanged the most gorgeous garlands of bright flowers with dark organzas draped in a beautiful pattern. Each and every little detail was a conversation she remembered having with Aleksander from when they planned their wedding. In awe of the scene as she try to take in everything along with the sunset over the horizon, two hands pulled her back by her waist. Before she registered being alarmed, the instinct was replaced with that of warmth. Warmth she held very dear. “Why hello, my love” Aleksander spoke as he rested his head by crook of her neck giving her shoulder a gentle peck.

“Aleksander” Y/n said and turned to face him, she wanted to make sense of what it was that was happening but she truly didn’t want to. Maybe she is already dead but she was the happiest perhaps accepting whatever this was. She had so many questions to ask but the sight of his face, in his wedding attire, first time since the ship, first time since her strange dreams were it was just bargain, blame and endless arguments, y/n overcame the urge to punch him and show how cross she was, how much her hurt her, she just wrapped her arms around him, leaping into him as he carried her off her feet and hugged her tightly in his arms almost as if she wouldn’t exist if he let her go.

This felt like his luckiest moment, “and they say it’s a bad omen to see your bride before the wedding” he joked letting her out of his arms but still holding her close. “You look heavenly.”

“What-uh what is this?” Y/n asked finally, she could gather it was a wedding perhaps there but how so? What time of the year even was it? Plus they had so many hurdles to overcome before actually getting married.

“It’s our wedding day!” He exclaimed as he replied to her and gently caressed her face with a smile on his face. He moved his head to the side gesturing her to look around, the decorations, the empty guest benches, the wedding attires.

“But…how? How did we get here? Did we even tell everybody?” Y/n asked still not convinced that this could be real, a faint voice in the back of her head did tell her none of this was remotely real.

“We did, the guests will be here any minute.” Aleksander said “I just wanted to see you once…for myself.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at his irresistible little gesture to see her before the wedding all for himself. They were about to get married, together for an eternity, yet he couldn’t spare a few moments even. “And Kaz?”

“You know how your brother is, he was upset, really upset for a while. But he came around. Doesn’t he always?” Aleksander explained as he held his beloved’s hands in his.

His mannerisms of holding her hand so tightly desperately want to see her. Kaz coming around like he always did. Scene of the wedding. It all felt so strikingly real. This is perhaps exactly how their wedding would be. This was real. Maybe what happened before all of this was just a terrible terrible dream. Believing that y/n leaned forwarded and kissed her husband to be. Omens he damned. He kissed her back holding her face with his hand and his free arm by her waist securing her tightly in his arms.

Y/n pulled away for a moment to look at him, the setting sun behind her casted light orange hue on her lover’s face and she wanted to be reassured he was here. This was real. This was happening. However the voice said otherwise. It was everyone’s voice all at once.

“You abandoned me! You died…you made promised-you-I loved you..I-I love you! And you aren’t here you died you’ve left me”

“—I’m here aren’t I?”

"If it isn't the wedding bells I hear!"

"That monster of yours you almost married wasn't sabotaging your life?!"

"Manipulated. He manipulated you. You dimwit.”

Every conversation, every dream, everyone’s voices were echoing so loud it shambled the walls of her intoxicated dream. She pulled away from Aleksander sharply and put her hands over her ears to silence everything she wanted to be a bad dream but was reality. Aleksander put his arms around her to support her as she knelt to the ground he crouched down next to her not wanting to leave her side for a moment.

“This…this isn’t real.” Y/n told herself more than she told Aleksander. This isn’t real. It made her want to cry because this actually was her dream, to marry Aleksander and no body is cross with her. Her dream was dying. “This isn’t real-“

“Y/n” he cooed forcing her frantic eyes to look back at him, “look at me my love.” He said and his voice was so full of love and fragility Y/n wanted to cry that this wasn’t real. It was perhaps a stark foreshadowing what her dream would be like in reality, she could be in her wedding dress with her beloved and yet feel like crying. Because that dream would never be hers. “This could be real. It almost was. For a long time it almost was real, wasn’t it? It never occurred to you even four months ago that this couldn’t be, that we couldn’t be. Why now?”

“Aleksander…” she wept in her hands, how was she to explain to her hopeless lover of a conscious which conversed to her in form of Aleksander.

“Do you not want this?” He asked, his eyes scanning every hint of assurance on her face desperately wanting just one answer.

“Yes” she breathed out as tears ran down her face but she knew the ‘but’ after that yes was a big and unavoidable one. However unpleasant it was. “But it’s different now…”

“How is it? How is it any different y/n? Are you not the same woman who’d house a wretched soul that is mine…like you always did? The dreams we share…would you not house it any more?” He asked.

“Yes…yes I—I would Aleksander…” but I simply can’t, not after what you did. Y/n held back from saying because she didn’t want to admit it to herself.

“Then please, be it, be my home, be my solace, I’m out there leading a fight by myself and I always have until you—you. Please fight y/n. Fight for us. Don’t loose hope in us so soon…don’t wash your hands of us. Promise me you won’t?” He asked as he held her hands like the only thing in the world but she did not have anything to say as she stared at him. Eyes so full of hope but it was just the face of her own conscience. She did not have the heart to promise him anything nor did she have the capacity to stomach their love. She…missed him. But she didn’t want to anymore. That idea in itself was painful, very painful.

All that turmoil was over as a bigger one took place, gaining consciousness. Y/n woke up gasping for air as her mouth tasted like the worst thing she’d ever tasted. Familiar faces around her sighed in relief as she coughed her way out of almost death.

—

They got what they were there looking for. The neshyenyer. However y/n just got more frustrated how could her feelings remain so disoriented? She hated how she felt, she hated Aleksander but she wanted to love him to the end of her days but she knew that wasn’t possible anymore. She hated how Kaz still saw her as someone not capable to make rational decisions on her own and she wanted to prove him wrong but she didn’t know where she stood.

Furthermore as they walked out in the barren fields, Kaz tried to talk to y/n for a moment as they were loading the carriage but she dismissed him for later. Perhaps his intoxicated dream was eye opening too but y/n couldn’t handle it at the moment. Torment that her feelings and the dream she just had inflicted heavy upon her.

—

HIIIIIIII god I love this plot SO much at this point I’m just writing for myself😭

Drinker water eat sweets and keep seasonal depression away mfs

Tags: @louderfortheback @sloppyzengarden @mori1b2bpad @zeeader @shitpostrandomness @duchess @serpentthecrow @evalynkillgrave @bwormie

[moonlightgrisha]

Everybody knows

Ch. 9 You decide to take your destiny into your own hands, even if it means disobeying the Darkling's orders. [Masterlist] Previous - Next

You have never been scared of darkness. It didn't scare you when it was a childish game with your cousins, and it still didn't when you grew up and faced long starless nights all by yourself.

But the darkness you dive in, this time, is different. It's thick and cold, and you won't remember anything once you wake up, but just a glimpse of the horror. Shadows. Monsters. Blood.

You finally wake up, and you are not in your tent. It takes you minutes to start recalling the events that led you here, on this unfamiliar bed, with a dry mouth and a strange feeling in you gut.

Your abdomen is bandaged, and when you pass your hand on the linen, it doesn't hurt as much as you expect. You had good healers, but they are not here anymore. You look around and see nobody.

You sit on the edge on the bed and things finally begin to fall into place. You recognize the sober furnishings, especially the war table, filled with papers and notes.

As you are wondering where the the host has gone, you turn to look behind your shoulders, and you see the Darkling lying on a couch. It's more of a bench, actually, and it's impressive how he can rest on such an uncomfortable surface. He seems fast asleep, though. You take your time, looking at him. He sleeps on his side, arms folded, and when you notice a scrap of paper in his hand, you realize that he probably had no intention to fall asleep whatsoever.

You also realize that it is his bed, the one you slept for... how long? You wish you knew. But you are not going to wake him up. The things you discussed - the things that happened - it's all coming back to you, and you have no idea how to deal with all of it.

Someone tried to kill you, and you killed them instead. No, it was his doing, actually. But you signed them up for the execution.

You stand up, feeling overwhelmed, then glance at the General once more. You also found peace in his arms, for a brief moment. Isn't that the scariest thing of all? And while you push away your desire for another embrace, you spot something on the paper in his hand. You bend and gently remove the paper from his hand. He doesn't even flinch, but you feel the touch of his breathing, so close, and conjure all your will not to get distracted.

It looks like a leaftlet, but it is actually a holy picture, like the ones you have seen all your life. But this one is different.

This Saint in the picture holds the full moon on her hands, and her figure is surrounded by pitch black darkness.

"You are awake".

His voice startles you. The Darkling is sitting up, looking at you with hope. No, not hope, relief. You are finally awake, that's what he means to say.

His hands filled with your blood, when he found you in the snow, and there are many things you could tell him. Instead you show him the image and ask: "What is this?"

"That is you, according to some". He stands up, and he would probably come even closer, if you'd let him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine". Right now you only care for this paper in your hand. "Please, explain this."

"Rumors fly". You let him remove the paper from your hand, while he looks at you and says: "I'm afraid we cannot keep discretion any longer, although the King might wish otherwise. Your... spectacle, has been seen by the whole camp".

"I blew up my cover", you exhale.

"You survived", he points out.

You sit on the bed, searching for a place inside your mind for the reality you woke up in.

"Healers worked on you until this very morning", he explained. "That is why I would advise to take it slow".

"I do feel fine".

"I'm glad to hear it". His face suddenly clouds over, and for a moment he's about to speak, but he stops, like he changed his mind.

"What is it?"

"I must leave, now". He gets up and quickly wears his kefta, throwing his heavy black cape on top of it. "But my oprichniki are right oustide. You will be safe. We'll return to Os Alta in the morning".

"And then, what?"

He stops to stare at you. "I'm going to find out now".

There is something he's keeping from you and it makes you mad, but before you can enquire, he's back at your side. You stop breathing, expecting something you just once dared to dream about, and for a moment it seems he will make that dream come true. You feel his knuckles gently caressing your cheek, and it's all very fast, almost like you imagined it. He says nothing, and then he's gone.

You lie back on the bed and time slows down. Too many questions roam in your mind. You want to know who tried to take your life. You want to know where the Darkling is going right now. Are you now his guest, sleeping in his own bed, in his own tent, or are you back to being a prisoner, guarded by oprichniki?

You need to take charge of your own destiny.

When Genya suddenly enters the tent, you think you might have got also hallucinations, now. But she sits next to you and leans over to inspect your face, and you realize she is real.

"I thought worse", she says.

"What are you doing here?" you reply. "I mean, I'm so glad to see you. But shouldn't you be in Os Alta?"

"The King and Queen have moved to the Winter Palace in Ulensk for a few weeks" she explained. "Officially, it is a late winter vacation, but rumor is, it's about something else entirely".

The way she looks at you says more than her words.

"This can't possibly..." you begin, but you don't know how to end. Because Genya is right.

"Everybody knows", she adds. "Everybody is talking about it. The General himself was on his way to the palace, an hour ago. They are hosting a reception tonight, but I think there will not be any other topic of discussion than the Moon Summoner".

You instantly know what to do. "I must go".

Genya's lovely face turns a little pale. "I think you should not".

"These people are deciding my own fate, and I'm not even present".

"Listen". Genya's voice is just a whisper, now. "I am only telling you this so you understand how important it is that you stay here and follow the General's orders. Those men that attacked you... it seems they were Ravkan".

It is your turn to get pale, now.

You never had enemies. And nobody knew who you were, back at home. Except for...

Can it be? Is it such a shame, to have a Grisha in the royal family, that she would have you killed before anybody could find out? She must be so mad, that her plan had the opposite effect.

"Let me go to the Winter Palace", your voice tremble. "Let me look at the Queen in her eyes".

"I just told you this so that you would desist".

"And it didn't work".

"You don't have a proper dress for attending a reception".

"I do, actually. I brought one."

Genya's eyes open wide. "You brought a gown at the battlefront? Saints, why?!"

You feel yourself blushing. "I thought... If something happened to me... at least I'd have something decent to be buried with".

Genya hides her face in her hands, exasperated. "The General will kill me for this".

"I'll do it without your help, then".

She hesitates. She knows you mean it. Then, she gives you a long, assessing look.

"It would be a crime to let you go to the Winter Palace in this state".

This is the moment in which you know, you finally have a partner in crime. You know something inside Genya longs for taking her revenge on the Queen, the King and the whole rotten royal court. The two of you are on the same side, now, and maybe you've always been.

She helps you get ready and slip out of the tent unnoticed, right into her carriage. This is the trickiest part, but Genya knows how to make people see only what they want to see.

Now, on your way to the Winter Palace, you start to feel scared. What on Earth do you think you are doing? This is the most reckless thing you have ever done in your life. You could end up in a really bad place. Also, the Darkling won't like it. But when Genya says: "Maybe we should turn back", you immediately answer: "Not a chance".

And that's settled.

When you arrive at the palace, Genya lets you in the service entrance. She whispers a good luck, before vanishing into the grand hall. You take your time, before following her.

If you do this, there's to turning back. You become the Moon Summoner and you face the consequences.

But destiny is calling you. You hear it, now. It echoes with shadows, monsters and blood, with screams of mad men and whispers you have yet to decipher.

It is now or never.

You follow that call.

Entering the majestic grand hall, everyone turns to you. Some of them look horrified, others are in awe, some are mumbling: "Sankta". Everybody knows who you are.

You silently thank Genya for making you presentable and you march straight to the other side of the hall, where the King and Queen are seemingly conferring with the Darkling himself.

The look on his face when he sees you is indecipherable. He must have worked hard for all his long life, to prevent his emotions to come spilling out in situations like this.

But when you meet his gaze, just for a moment, you see a flash of blazing rage. It breaks your heart, and this is how you know this man has become to you more than you can handle.

You have no time to deal with your heart, now, shattered or not. You turn to the King and Queen, savoring their puzzled look, the utter fear in her Majesty's eyes. Then you give them the humblest smile and kneel. "My King. My Queen".

They definitely did not expect this.

"Raise", speaks the King. "We thought you were still recovering from your battle wound, as General Kirigan was just telling us".

"I feel much better, thank you, moy tsar", you respond. The Queen says nothing, and you take pleasure in her puzzlement, looking at her right in the eye.

It's the hardest part, now, as you shift your gaze to the Darkling, facing him, knowing so many things cannot be spoken, but hoping he will understand.

"I ask the General's forgiveness for disobeying his orders." He can't help but frown a little. You try to smile, but you know you won't charm him that easily. "He had indeed advised me to rest, but I felt compelled to be here today, in your presence."

"How thoughtful of you, dear cousin", the Queen has finally got up the courage to speak. She smiles, fake as her pretty lashes. "You shouldn't have bothered".

You turn to her, relieved to escape the Darkling's glare. "I didn't want to miss the chance to pledge my allegiance to Ravka's rulers, now that I found out I wield this great power"

"A great power?" The Queen does her best not to sound surprised, but she is not the actress she thinks.

"Please, let me show everybody". You gently raise your hand, and something does not go as you planned. The King's guard point their guns instantly, and someone in the crowd screams.

That's when the Darkling finally intervenes. He grabs your gloved hand, takes it down slowly. You look at him, hoping to find an ally, but he's cold as ice. "The Moon Summoner is only going to give a little demonstration", he says. "I assure you, it will be harmless".

His eyes are merciless. You swallow down the hard feeling of pain that just came from your heart, and nod.

He summons his shadows with a flick of his fingers, almost annoyed, giving you a black stage to perform on. You do your best to shape moonlight into a beautiful, gleaming globe. It is a miniature moon, slowly rotating above your head. A pretty trick you did sometimes in your room, as a kid.

The Darkling looks unimpressed. He called you 'Moon Summoner' without any sentiment. You feel something has broken, and while you are filled with wicked pleasure at the clapping of the crowd, you wish he would look at you like he used to. But dreams are useless, and you are in trouble.

You dissipate your moon without driving anyone mad, and the crowd is simply bewildered.

The King is much simpler than his consort, and somehow believes it a declaration of peace. He stands clapping, too. "We are honored to have such a great, rare power at our service."

"Let everybody know that I serve Ravka", you conclude. It is true. A half truth, actually.

The Queen stares at you with a little smile. Unlike her husband, she knows that this is war.

You bow to them while the crowd is still clapping.

As you and the Darkling take your leave, he whispers, so that nobody might hear, but only you. "Why did you come here?"

"You know why", you answer. "To take a stand".

"It was unwise and unnecessary. Also, you disobeyed my orders".

"I'm not your soldier".

"You are now". His words are as sharp as the night breeze that takes your breath away when you step outside. "You choose to fight, and you will fight. You will start training as soon as we reach the Little Palace".

He stops to stare at you, so full of contempt you almost burst in tears. "Welcome to the Second Army, princess".

He never talked to you like this before, and he never called you "princess", until now. You won a battle, tonight, but maybe you lost a war. And you feel so stupid that your dress, the beautiful gown you brought on the battlefield for your burial, worn on the night of your consecration, is black.

Taglist

@mysweetlittledesire@budugu@flostvs1508@aoi-targaryen@sakshi2005@rainy-day-lady

[simp2537]

Darkling x breeding kink + spanking?🙈

Marking

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

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

Aleksander Morozova x fem! Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[folkloreofyennefer]

Ben Barnes in "Nevermind"

It was never mine, so nevermind Nevermind