#if i was aleksander i would NEVER stray

[snailobsession]

[marvelmusing]

Warnings: Aleksander is very handsy, allusion to smut, semi-public make out session, wife!reader

A/N: all words in italics are spoken in Old Ravkan

-

“We have our Sun Summoner, and soon we shall have the Stag. Everything is coming together tonight, my love.” Aleksander purrs against your ear, the Old Ravkan is as smooth on his tongue as it was the day you met him all those centuries ago.

Two servant girls exchange glances as they stand with trays of drinks in their hands, no doubt noticing Aleksander pulling your back flush against his chest in one of the more secluded corners of the ballroom. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, warm palms pressed firmly against your body.

“The servants are listening, dear.” You remark, knowing full well that the Little Palace staff are well versed in Old Ravkan as a means to pass gossip around.

Aleksander’s tone lowers, but the volume of his voice doesn’t as he nuzzles his nose against the side of your neck, his dark eyes roaming down your body most inappropriately for your current environment, in the midst of the Winter Fete.

“Then perhaps I should mention how utterly delectable your breasts look in this dress.”

Warmth blooms over your cheeks, the high society accent he’s elected over the past few years is a stark contrast to his crude words.

“General Kirigan!” You hiss at him, raising a brow in warning at him, only to see his face alight with amusement.

The young servants scuttle away quickly with reddened faces, wanting to escape witnessing something akin the infamous War Table Incident.

Such a stunt has you wanting to use his true name to scold him, but unlike your husband you have an awareness of who is around you. No one else is allowed to know his true name - that knowledge is yours alone.

“Yes, my love? Shall I continue?”

Seeing Aleksander so full of joy, his eyes sparkling and the weight gone from his shoulders, you can’t find it in yourself to continue your scolding in earnest.

“You are incorrigible.” He grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek and a smirk soon tugs at the corner of your mouth. “But yes, please continue.”

“Oh?” His brow quirks, his pink lips parted lightly in surprise, before they twitch into a delighted smile. “Would my darling wife like to hear more about how I revere her very existence?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of how evidently fond you are of this dress.”

Your husband tilts his head aside as he watches you smooth your hands over the fabric of your dress, starting from your skirts before they trail along the curves of your waist.

Aleksander blinks at the coy expression on your face, his heat-flushed cheeks burning a little brighter as his darkened eyes follow the path of your hands.

“I believe it was something involving my breasts?”

He seizes your wrists as your hands move to cup your breasts, his grip is tight on you, as he steers you backwards into a deserted hallway.

The sounds from the Winter Fete are muffled by the door which Aleksander closes behind him, only for him to spin you around and press your back against the intricately painted wood.

Aleksander’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, his chest pressed against your own as he leans in, arms on either of you.

While your own gaze is fixed on his lips, eagerly awaiting his kiss, Aleksander’s eyes don’t stray from your chest, where the minimal corsetry and dark ribbons have pushed your breasts into a sight that has left a clear impression on your husband.

You’ve never seen him so distracted.

“Sasha?”

Your voice appears to rouse him from whatever stupor had seized him. His eyes flicker to yours briefly, before he drops his head down and begins to mouth at your breasts.

A gasp falls from your lips and you arch into his touch, head falling back against the door as your fingers thread through Aleksander’s dark hair.

He nuzzles his nose against your cleavage, the prickle of his beard grazing over your flushed and tender skin. His tongue traces under the neckline of your dress, and his hands cup whatever his mouth cannot reach due to the fabric. He finds each of your nipples and squeezes them gently between the tips of his fingers, drawing a moan from your lips.

The movement of his lips into a smile is felt against your skin as he sucks a mark onto each of your breasts. Aleksander’s hands continue to stroke up and down your body, always stopping to give your breasts a squeeze or to roll your nipples between his fingers.

Then he kisses a trail up your neck, breathing out mumbled words meant only for you.

“Been waiting for this all damned day.”

His teeth graze your collarbone, and his tongue laves over the spot before he continues to move along your throat.

“As soon as I saw you in this dress, I wanted nothing more than to lift these skirts up and have my way with you.”

Your hips grind eagerly against his, as you grasp onto the front of his kefta, keeping him as close as possible. From where you are, tucked under the doorframe, the only thing you can see is your Aleksander. He sucks another mark under your jawline, his nose brushing against your cheek as he does so.

“My wife, wearing my colour, in my palace.”

“Yours. All yours, moya lyubov.”

His nose trails along your jawline, breathing in the scent of your perfume as he leans even closer. Aleksander takes your earlobe between his lips and sucks lightly, and you feel his hand slip underneath your neckline. Gasping you look down.

At some point his slim, nimble fingers must have tugged on the ribbons holding the bodice of your dress together. With the ribbons loosened, Aleksander is free to grasp at your breasts as much as he likes.

He slides his thigh between yours, allowing you to grind against his leg in an attempt at gaining some well-needed friction against your dripping core that had already soaked your underwear.

A door slams somewhere nearby, and the two of you freeze. Eyes widened you stare at Aleksander. Then you hear footsteps.

Aleksander hurries to do up the ribbons on your bodice, previously nimble fingers now fumbling, although your soft laughter probably doesn’t aid your husband’s attempts to preserve your modesty. Luckily he manages to return you to a somewhat decent state.

Once he’s succeeded, he uses the time to press a few kisses to your neck, and you playfully try to push him away which draws a chuckle from him. The footsteps near you, then falter before a familiar voice speaks,

“Oh. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Alina.” Aleksander says gently, turning to face the girl which allows you to see her as she steps backwards. Her face flushes when she sees you, and you smile softly at her.

“I- they. They’re about to serve the dinner. Genya sent me to look for you.”

No doubt that ‘you’ means the General. Aleksander had told you that tonight he and Alina would have to appear as a united front, even more so than you and Aleksander. That didn’t bother you in the slightest. It was only one evening after all. You had Aleksander for forever.

He nods.

“Of course.”

He turns back to you, his eyes scouring yours as you give him a reassuring nod and a smile. He smiles back with a twinkle in his eyes. Then he begins to make his way down the hallway with Alina at his side.

The smile lingers on your face, your eyes drifting down as your focus shifts onto how Aleksander’s hands and mouth had felt as they roamed over your skin. Too occupied by these thoughts, you barely register Aleksander’s voice as he says,

“Just a moment, Alina.”

He spins backwards on his heel, and in a few strides he’s back in front of you, cupping your face between his hands and pulling your lips to his. The two of you smile into the kiss - your first kiss of the evening. The chill of his rings presses onto your cheek as he tilts your head as a means to move his lips against yours.

“I love you, my dearest one.” He breathes the words against your lips, his voice low, and soft, and only for you. You whisper your own response,

“I love you, my starlight.” Aleksander’s eyes are filled with such unbridled love that for a moment you can scarcely breathe. Despite his reputation for darkness, Aleksander has always been your guiding star.

He straightens, and every inch of him looks like the Second Army’s fearsome Black General, aside from the adoring look in his eyes. Then he turns away, and rejoins Alina.

There’s a stunned look in the girl’s eyes, as if she were in awe of what she had just witnessed, and it takes her a few moments to realise that Aleksander has swept passed her.

It’s only once they’re both out of sight that you glance over at the mirror opposite you, surveying the ruffled state of your hair and the blooming marks over your throat and breasts.

Shaking your head, you tug your neckline further up, hoping you can find Genya before anyone respectable sees you.

-

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity

BB Character Tag List: @rachlovesactors

[forgottengodfrey]

Aria/Godfrey - “ have you come to laugh at me in my miserable state? ”

"Laugh?" Godfrey's eyes were flint gleaming in the darkness, as he stepped into the light.

Declaring the Staffords bastards had been a misstep for Roderick: that much was evident. One had only to look at the rites of old Astaira, at even the queen's own styles before the conquest, to know this was not the true source of her power. Eilionora's elaborated titles were not like Roderick's: they were simple, and they were clear. Where Roderick's boasted divine appointment as the basis of his rule, hers noted somethng entirely different:

Her Grace, Eilionora of Astaira, the Seventh of her Name, by the Grace of the Guardians and of the People, Queen of All Astaira

Her style did not sing of glories bestowed by gods, by House, or by conquest: only the grace bestowed by spirits and by the people, themselves. Her style did not reflect whether she had entitlement to the use of the name Stafford, or even any connection to that House and, though she'd been a queen who had enriched the people and brightened their futures, she did not append any other tribute to her titles save that she was chosen by them, from amongst them, as an Astairan, herself. She had ruled the largest land in all the world: and still she said nothing of it. The important things, clearly, had already been stated.

Perhaps this truly was the land Amira had been seeking all her life: a land where the commons could rule. Yet, she had only ever come as a conqueror, a queen herself, and the bitter irony of it twisted into a strange smile upon the lips of her brother.

Roderick badly misjudged what mattered to the Astairans but, for Godfrey, that was all to the good. For Godfrey, that was an opportunity.

Aria was seated on a small divan overlooking a window, but he could see in her eyes that she had lately been weeping. He was little surprised, given the events of last night's ball. Godfrey did not move to share her long seat but, instead, he took a small wooden one and pulled it close to her position, seating himself there.

"I know what it is to feel powerless, madam," he said, skirting the usage of titles, princess or lady: the subject was too fraught, yet the walls were always listening. Better simply to find another mode of adress. "I could never laugh at such a thing."

He paused, sighed. "There is something I would have you know of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor: to him, any cost is worthy in the name of doing what he believes he must. In that much, I think, you and he may agree if, perhaps, less so in...other matters."

He paused, grey eyes darting towards the winter-strewn scene outside, ice spreading thin-veined like spiderwebs across the glass pane. "You may find His Majesty far easier to...understand looking at it from such an angle. And you may find that both he and his children become easier to navigate when better understood. Like many of us, when he is being...understood, he is also more inclined to...generosity.

"Perhaps, then, a study of his beliefs may prove...beneficial. My Eminence, Aleksander Royce, would doubtless prove overjoyed to teach you, and His Majesty, himself, would take it as a step in the right direction, I have little doubt...Though discretion might serve you, as well, to keep the people content. It is hard to say what loyal Astairans might make of such studies, and I'm sure we've none of us any wish to see chaos in the streets."

Or whether she might start to lose their loyalties if it were thought that she strayed too far into the Varmont camp and that loss would not suit Godfrey over much.

He could not yet ask her to trust him, when he'd not given her a reason to do so. After this, if she saw what he intended by it: a roadmap to better guiding and shaping and directing the Varmonts, themselves, she might be open to trusting him more, and if she was open to trusting him, perhaps some alliance between her cause and his could then be arranged. But first this step. Everything in its time.

Godfrey stood then, pulling the chair back to its original position. "No matter what happens to us, madam," he said, as he came to stand once more by the door. "I find we are only powerless so long as we allow ourselves to be."

[tirkdi]

SPILLLLL who was aleksanders half brother in shadow of war?? was it the soldier creeping on alina at the president's ball??

You know what, I think this is the first time I've been asked! I had thought I might at some point write a drunk-history-style Morozova backstory for that fic, but it's been eight years so it may be time to admit that it's unlikely to happen ...

His half brother is the Fjerdan ambassador we meet in chapter 21, Ambassador Visser. When I wrote it, I'd meant to not hit people over the head with it since Alina didn’t make the connection herself, but when I mentioned it to my beta reader they were shocked — turns out it was way too subtle, lol. I mention their similar colored eyes and facial resemblance once or twice, and it turns out that's not enough for people to divine an entire familial relationship and backstory! Who knew??

Part of it is that there's a lot more going on with the general and Fjerda than Alina is aware of until reeeeeeally late in the story, and that the reader is never told: he was born in Fjerda, the Fjerdan ambassador to Ravka is his half brother, he got the scars on his face while he and his mother escaped, etc. The conversation Alina and the general have shortly before meeting Ambassador Visser is not talking about revenge for only Baghra's death:

... "But I would be careful about leaving children while killing their parents. Children who survive grow up to be adults who seek revenge."  Her pulse sped perceptibly, and she wet the corner of her lip with her tongue. "Like me," she whispered.  "Like you," he agreed, tucking a stray strand of hair into the folds of her head wrap. His eyes dipped again to the reflection of her ring in the mirror, and his mouth set firmly. "Like us."

... but also what they did to her while she was alive.

(It's worth noting that Aleksander knows the ambassador is is half brother, but Ambassador Visser (and pretty much everyone else) is completely unaware of this relationship)

[daceystvrk]

it felt as though there were a dark cloud gathering around dacey stark more often than not these days, the unbearable pressure of an oncoming storm weighting her down. the lingering worry was a constant companion, but in the days since king's landing, it had grown teeth, tearing at her from the inside out. was she the only one to see it? sometimes, it certainly seemed that way.

but not tonight. there was a certain joviality in the air, and it was catching. she was still nervous to be in the west, but here, at least, she had managed to leave her anxieties behind her, and do something that was not the norm for the princess of winter - she was managing to enjoy herself. her sister was still missing. the northern schism still made it's presence known. and yet, tonight she had smiled more, laughed more, enjoyed the company of aleksander karstark, whose friendship remained thankfully untainted despite having every reason to crumble.

aleksander was not the only karstark who had her attention tonight. more than once, she had seen brandon amongst the crowds, and when her dark eyes glanced over him, she could have sworn he was looking at her, too. she did not approach him. brandon karstark had taken measures to put distance between himself and winterfell, and though their last conversation was never far from her thoughts, she would respect that.

she did not need to. when dacey found herself standing alone, lingering on the edge of the merriment, it was brandon karstark who approached her, and when he spoke, dacey smiled, tentative and encouraging, one hand reaching to tuck back a stray lock of her hair. "hello, lord karstark."

perhaps she should have been wearier to speak with him, paying more heed to the divisions his absence had created. the true north, they called it, and that scared her, uncharted territory for the place she called her home. she had never thought to see brandon and owen on separate sides, the figureheads of factions that sat in opposition to one another, but it had happened. and yet, she did not feel any trepidation, nor unease.

"he has," she confirmed, a quiet laugh accompanying the words. "but i think we can forgive him that, just this once." aleksander's attention was firmly fixed upon the girl he had taken to the dancefloor, and dacey would not begrudge him that. he deserved to enjoy himself, and she would not confine him to the sidelines with her.

but then, a hand was extended, without words, but the intent was clear. he was inviting her to dance. and dacey did not think, did not stop to consider whether it was the right thing to do or not. if she had, perhaps she would not have placed her hand in his, fingers curling around his own, and let him lead her to the dancefloor.

"i should warn you," she laughed again, but this time, at her own expense. "i've always been a terrible dancer."

who: @daceystvrk when and where: lann's day, the westerlands

how it was he had been able to identify the individual behind the mask was something he did not entirely understand, nor contemplate, nor think too much on: his gut instinct seemed to only indicate toward being moved to stand in her presence. perhaps because his warm, grey gaze moved to meet her own multiple times whilst he were in conversation, or whilst she was in conversation with his own younger brother – and he knew who aleksander had planned on accompanying to the lann’s day festivities that evening. 

still, he knew not what seemed to pull him in her direction; only that at one point, he seemed to have blinked, and he found himself stood before her – goblet of ale still within one of his hands. “princess.” his voice was rough, his karhold accent remaining wrapped around it: if she did not already know who he was, that simple word would have been enough to give it away in an instant. 

whatever pull, or invisible string, that seemed to have slowly begun to weave was one he did not understood nor fully acknowledge yet at this point: but their whispered conversation regarding the extent of the activities the princess alysanne had taken part in that fateful night in the woods seemed to have bound them in some way. did she know there was something he was not entirely comfortable speaking of yet?

did he want to burden her with discussions of her missing sister, when the idea of celebrating and allowing themselves to be swept into southern revelry still felt entirely wrong when one of the pack was missing? 

unaccounted for; no closure, for any questions that lingered. but what was he to do? there were enough rumours regarding him, and the stance of the karstarks as a whole: to continue rocking the manderly boat would only prove the rumours true. that he were trying to stand against something. all brandon karstark wanted, was to be left in his own seat: with his own people, within parts of the north he still recognised. but the manderlys had stressed the opportunity of negotiations with the westerlands, and here they were.

there was a stark missing. who were they becoming?

still, his brother had found himself wrapped up in the presence of a woman with hair of flames, and he couldn’t help but lightly smile at the sight of the woman stood to the side of the room; almost as though she were trying to busy herself. “has that treacherous mud man left ya to yer own devices?” there was a light humour in his voice, one that masked the weariness that he felt in his lack of sleep these days. he still smelt the scent of his wife, heard the sound of her sighs as she turned to sleep on her side; but the bed was empty. he simply offered her his hand to take, nodding his head in the direction of the dance floor.

in truth, he wondered if she would close herself from his speech. the true north, was what he apparently represented: what did that mean the king represented? 

[thebadgerclan]

New Year’s Kiss Blurbs!

Happy New Year!  Enjoy these itty bitty blurbs of my favorite characters and how they’d give a New Year’s Kiss!

Tagging @fandom-puff and @pinkandblueblurbs because A) I love you guys and B) I think you’ll enjoy the Harry Potter blurbs 🥰

Aleksander Morozova:

“Happy New Year!”  Outside the walls of the Little Palace, fireworks lit up the sky, and around him, the Grisha toasted their glasses of kvas and wine, some pulling their lover close for a traditional New Year’s kiss.  Normally, Aleksander was a restrained man, keeping his affections for you behind closed doors aside from an arm around your shoulders or a kiss to your forehead or cheek.  But tonight, he was feeling rather affectionate, and he pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply, dipping you towards the ground, his arms firm around your waist.  “Happy New Year, my love.”  You smiled, forehead against his.  “Happy New Year, Sasha.”

Matthias Helvar

“Happy New Year!”  This was very different than New Year’s in Fjerda.  Back home, large gatherings like this were un heard of; a family might splurge on a nicer cut of reindeer or a bottle of wine, but in Ketterdam, gathering in the streets and getting utterly intoxicated was apparently the norm.  Matthias was slowly getting used to the public displays of affection in Kerch, but watching dozens of couples embracing around him made him a bit uncomfortable.  You noticed, and took his hand, going up on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek.  “There’s more where that came from later, love,” you said, and Matthias flushed scarlet.  He supposed he’d have to get used to a woman, his woman, being assertive as well.

Kaz Brekker

“Happy New Year!”  For the whole evening, Kaz’s gloved hand had been clasped firmly in yours, unwilling to let you stray too far from him in the crowd.  The canals were bustling with people, colorful fireworks popping overhead.  This was something Kaz had been overthinking for weeks: he was comfortable with touching you without his gloves, and he found that crowds, being smushed in a sea of bodies, didn’t inspire the fear they one had.  But could be combine the two?  He kept his gloves on to be safe, and he told himself that it was now or never.  Kaz brought a hand to your cheek and guided your face to his, kissing you sweetly.  When he pulled back, you were looking at him with unadultered awe.  “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

Severus Snape

“Happy New Year!”  Every year, Dumbledore held a New Year’s celebration for the teachers and students who stayed at the school over break.  This year, very few students remained, putting the occupants of the Great Hall at only 4 students opposed to most of the teachers.  As such, Severus had let his guard down, letting himself enjoy a few drinks and keep you close, his arm around your waist.  And when midnight struck, your husband pulled you even closer, kissing you deeply and passionately.  “I think Albus would be rather disappointed in me if I gave you the New Year’s kiss I’d truly like to give.”  “Severus!”

Lucius Malfoy

“Happy New Year!”  Of course, Lucius Malfoy’s New Year’s Eve party was the place to be, anyone who’s anyone wanted to be invited.  You were dripping in precious gems, silk and satin, a flute of champagne in one hand, your other resting on Lucius’ arm.  Fire-proof fireworks went off when the clock struck 12, showering the great room in golden sparks.  Your fiance snatched your champagne from your hand, setting it haphazardly on the mantle before pulling you to him, kissing you possessively and deeply.  “Happy New Year, my sweet dove.”

Remus Lupin

You and Remus seldom made it to midnight, and seeing as last night was the full, Remus was exhausted, his body still recovering.  The pair of you were snuggled up on the couch, a bottle of champange open on the coffee table before you, along with your favorite snacks and a pizza you’d demolished.  Remus was dozing against your chest, a blanket tucked around his shoulders.  You were nodding off as well, but Remus stirred, lifting his head.  “Y/N,” he mumbled.  “It’s midnight.”  “So it is,” you replied, and Remus kissed you, his lips soft against yours.  “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he said sleepily, and you hummed.  “Happy New Year Rem.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 13

Summary: Terrified of losing Y/N, the Darkling lets his defenses fall.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine // Part ten // Part eleven // Part twelve  

=================================

“Stay with me”, the Darkling trembled as he rushed back to the camp. He held her body close to his chest, her head slumped right where his heart beats thunderstorms in her name.

She’s slipping away, he can feel it. The injuries she suffered and the power she used weakened her irreversibly.

He should be angry with her, enraged, but he had no strength to spare for violent emotions. His heart couldn’t bare much more than the pain he found himself drowning in. It wasn’t the pain of his own wounds, rather the pain of her parted lips and ragged breaths that came like final gushes of air her lungs released.

“HEALER!” He shouted, hoping, praying to the Saints he never believed in before.

“HEALER!” There was something in his screams for help, an unimaginable pain behind it.

Y/N’s fingers twitched, her chest rising in a strange manner; what should expand with an inhale suddenly draws in, a paradox he had seen in dying soldiers.

“HEALER!” It was the kind of scream that went straight for the heart.

Everyone tensed, following the Darkling – a man who never showed genuine emotion other than rage. His call for healers felt like a cry from the heart and soul that stretched across the foundations of who he is. The anguish tore through him as he saw a healer run toward him.

Letting out a shuddered breath in relief, he collapsed to his knees. “Not me!” He growled as the healer tried placing her hands on him, “Help her! Save my wife!”

Nodding, the healer looked down at Y/N with wide eyes. Another healer arrived too, then another, and another.

The Darkling refused to let her out of his embrace as two of the healers tried to take her away. “No!”

“We have to take her”, the first healer insisted. “She doesn’t have long and we have to act fast and that’s not going to happen while you’re clinging to her!” Eyes wide, she covers her mouth as it dawns on her who she’s speaking to. “Respectfully, General.”

Staring at her with raw suffering, Aleksander licked his trembling lips. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her temple instead of her forehead – forehead kisses in this moment would feel as if he’s kissing her corpse before her final rest. 

He couldn’t stomach that thought.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you”, he whispers. 

This isn’t how it’s meant to be, how it’s supposed to be. He could never believe anyone ever loved anyone the way he loves her.

Nothing ever made him so frightened as the thought of losing her.

“Take her”, Mal tells them. Looking down at Kirigan who seemed incapable of standing back up on his own, he realized he had to take over.. “And send someone for your General. Send everyone for the wounded in the field.”

Aleksander looked up, jaw clenched and eyes swimming in tears he has yet to shed.

“I’m not leaving”, Mal quipped. “She’s my General.”

Y/N wasn’t able to scream, despite the pain darkening her mind. She tried to focus on her breathing, on staying alive. The only awareness she had was of Aleksander’s arms around her – she felt his scent. When he touched her face, when he tried to gain her attention, she couldn’t open her eyes. Her ears kept ringing, mixing with a rumbling inside his chest. She managed to blink her eyes open once, just one more time to see him, but all she managed to get was a glimpse of his chin and beard.

She wondered how he’d look without it, if it would make him seem boyish, softer. Maybe it would have erased the burden on his shoulders - they may be wide, but they shouldn’t have to carry all that weight alone.

Suddenly, his scent was gone. She tried to reach for him, but her arms could not move, hanging freely instead. Cold seeped in, clinging to her insides, wrapping itself around her heart.

Slowly, her agony had faded. The pain gradually lifted, dissipating like fog. For a moment, she wondered if this is what death feels like – no more pain? No more suffering? Being alone and cold?

Despite everything, if she had a choice, she’d embrace the pain. If pain means she would return to him, to his warm arms, she’d gladly suffer.

Dizzy, confused, she felt herself being pulled up into reality. The disjointed haze receded enough for her to make sense of the world around her. Her eyelids feel heavy as she opens her eyes, the edges of her vision flickering. Blinking fast, her eyebrows knitted as her vision blurred.

‘Aleksander’, she wanted to call, but couldn’t say a word. 

How odd it is that he’s the last one she thought about when she thought she’d die and he’s still the first one to come to mind when she wakes? 

She no longer felt cold. He always had the ability to keep the cold away.

Sniffling, she jerked her hands away as she became aware of another’s touch. Sitting up on a table she was laid upon, she pulled herself aside before looking to the one who touched her earlier.

“It’s just me”, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I needed to see you.” His voice is soft, sweet like honey.

Scoffing, she narrows her eyes at him and the cup of water he held out for her to take. Her mouth is dry, her throat like sandpaper. She may be angry with him, but the water he held out felt more important than their fight.

“Are you in any pain?” He asks, watching her drink all of the water in one go. “I could have them come and take it away.”

Letting out a loud sigh, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Raising an eyebrow, she licked her dry lips.

“Can they take you away?”

Snorting, he suppresses a smile. As long as she’s capable of annoying him, she’s going to be fine.

“What were you thinking?” Threading his fingers through his hair, Aleksander frowned. “You could have died.”

“Would have saved you a lot of trouble in the future”, she quips. Standing, she stumbles.

Feeling his hands on her waist, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Even now, when she’d like nothing more than to walk away, her body reacts to him. Looking up at him, she inhales sharply as she sees the tears in his eyes.

“I’m scared”, he admitted and she blinked.

“Of what?” She frowned, “Me?” Does her power frighten him? Because it frightens her.

He shook his head, “Of me”, he looked at her. His hands trembled as they touched her skin, “I’m scared of hurting you.”

“I’m scared of you hurting me, too.”

Dropping his hand, he takes a step back. “I don’t think I’m capable of ever hurting you.”

“Tell that to my neck”, she remarks. Her hand brushes over where his hand had tightened its grip just the night before, fixing his gaze on him. He seemed to regret it.

‘Good’, she thought. ‘I hope it haunts him, because it will haunt me.’

“I apologize”, Aleksander swallows thickly. He can’t remember the last time he apologized to someone. A part of him questioned if he ever apologized for anything he’s done in his unusually long life. “I had no right to act the way I did.”

“You once told me I could choose the way to punish you if you ever hurt me”, she takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.

Aleksander nods, “I’m a man of my word.”

“What’s your name”, she asks. “Real name.”

His eyes locked on hers like magnets of different polarities. Isn’t that exactly what they are? She’s his polar opposite in every way, fated to attract.

“Aleksander Morozova.” He uttered a name long forgotten; a name he wanted to forget. 

Aleksander was a weak boy who failed everyone that cared for him. He was soft, young, naïve and a damned fool for ever believing Grisha would ever be free. Even now as he elevated their status, Grisha had to serve a human – the Tsar.

Her eyes held barely contained anger. As her hands clasped, a few stray flickers of light appeared on her fingertips. Unclasping her hands immediately, she raised her chin up. “I want to know everything. Tell me your story.”

“And when will I hear yours?” Darkling demanded, swiping his thumb under his lower lip.

“You seem to mistake this for negotiations”, she maintained eye contact defiantly. “Last night you told me to either go back to the Palace or to cross the fold and return to my father. It’s a choice that would easily mean I can choose to stay with you or leave and never look back.”

Placing a hand on his chest, Y/N smirked. “You can either tell me the whole truth or watch me leave.” She spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t push me unless you’re willing to lose.” 

Cupping his left cheek, she allowed a luminescent glow cast a light on his handsome features. She was angry, so angry and tired and her own power often terrified her. For once, she wanted to use it for her own benefit rather than hide it.

“What good will it do?” Aleksander’s bottom lip quivers as her light illuminates tears collecting in his dark eyes. “You’ll hate me as they all do. Even my mother saw me as a monster.”

“I’ve seen what you really are. And I never turned away…what makes you think I will now?”

She felt his jaw clench under the palm of her hand as he swallowed thickly, “You would if you could see my heart, all of it.”

Exhaling through her nose, she shook her head. Her eyes soften, her lips parting. How could she ever be indifferent to his suffering? She wished she could be colder, to leave him in tears and not look back. Hearing his words, his belief that he’s unlovable tugged at her heartstrings. 

"Have you no faith in me?"

In a fight, they’re lethal, but around each other their armor is gone.

“I’ve waited for you for centuries. I dreamed about you for hundreds of years before I ever saw your face. I longed for you, missed you, died and lived for you.” Taking her face in his hands, Aleksander bends. His forehead meets hers as his nose brushes against the tip of hers.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you, my dreams have been clearer, focused on you. And in my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been’”, his eyes overflow with tears as he continues with a fractured smile. “I say, ‘I’ve been lost, but I’m here now’.” 

Swallowing thickly, he felt as if his heart was breaking. “You’re the only person who has ever been able to find the real me. You saw me underneath all the darkness.” Reaching for her hand, his fingers tremble. “I was waiting for you without knowing it. I’ll make up for all the mistakes, for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.”

“So why is it so hard for you to be honest with me?” She whispers, her hands trembling as they hold onto his shoulders.

His frown deepens, “Why weren’t you honest with me?”

“You once joked and said I’m no Inferni”, she shrugged. “You were right about that. My mother was. Father never knew about either of us. Your turn.”

“I was honest”, he sighs. Stepping back, he frowns. “I told you my name, I answered your questions about the black heretic.”

Reaching for him, she felt her heartache intensify once his tears began to flow freely across his cheeks.

“Don’t”, he recoiled from her touch. She wrapped her arms around her own waist, hurt by the rejection. 

“It’s not easy for me to talk about my past. It’s as if I’m cutting myself open, letting the ugliness spill out. It’s not painless.” Swallowing thickly, Darkling’s eyes widen as he tries to hold back more tears from escaping him. “It would have been simpler to close myself off and find an unremarkable lover who’d never dare defy me, but I keep taking the risk because I want to be with you and I hope that one day you will feel the same way about me.”

“I want”, she stopped, tucking her hair behind her ears. 

His voice was quieter, “What do you want? I’ll give you everything.”

“I don’t know”, she replied honestly. “I’m hurt, Aleks. You hurt me after you promised to protect me.”

Running a hand across his face, wiping his tears away. He averts his gaze. Watching her break because of him deepens the cracks in his poorly stapled, bleeding heart.

“What do you want”, she looked to him with a weight in her chest. How can loving someone hurt so badly even when the love is reciprocated?

“Never mind what I want”, he turned away. Facing her now would have chipped away at his fragile sanity, so he did what a coward would – he hid.

“You asked what I want”, she placed her hands on her hips. “I want to know what you want.”

Shaking his head, he let out a breathless chuckle. “You”, he smiled. “I’ll always want you.”

Closing the distance between them, she closed her arms around his neck. Before she could reach for him, he gripped her by her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his waist on instinct, she got lost in the rush of blood to her head when he pinned her against the table behind her. He paused, searching her eyes. 

Whatever he was looking for, she hoped he found it.

“I don’t own you”, his eyes flicker to her lips as she sinks her front teeth into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “I never did. Human or Grisha, you always owned me. I was just too blind to see it.”

Brushing his lips against hers, Aleksander smiled in resignation. His eyes are so different in moments like these, softer than she ever imagined eyes could be.

“Your silver tongue won’t get you far”, she struggled to keep her eyes open with his lips a whisper away. “But you’re free to try.”

She felt his burning gaze, finding it hard to concentrate on much besides breathing. He observed her, capturing her soft, naturally charming and appealing nature. She’s genuine and sweet, the reason why everyone’s head turns when she walks into the room.

How did he not realize it before?

She’s the sun.

She always was. 

He always did squint angrily at her like he does with the fireball in the sky.

Y/N’s hands ran up and down his chest as her lips claimed his - passionately, roughly, determinedly. Without a word, she started to unbutton his kefta, her cold fingertips brushing his warm skin - until she lost patience and ripped the bottom part wide open, pressing her palm against his chest as he broke the kiss.

“Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.

“I’ll be mad at you tomorrow. Kiss me”, she ordered, drawing a smile on his lips as she pulled him closer, her lips reattaching to his, her teeth sinking into his lower one.

Pushing him onto the floor, she didn’t waste time. Her bottoms were down so quickly he hardly had time to take a proper breath before she unfastened his pants too.

Heaving, Aleksander could hardly get enough of the view on top of him - her beautiful mouth opening in pleasure every time she sunk down on him, her eyes rolling back into her head, her hands placed over his chest to keep herself steady. She speeds up, prompting his loud, uninhibited moans that drew an honest smile upon her lips. He trusted up and into her as his high hit fully, taking her by surprise. She gasped, his thrust giving her an unexpected release as she clenched around him.

Gasping for breath, she laid on top of him. Y/N was very aware of his arm around her as it pulled her close, his hand on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. He leaned into her, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her temple, making her tingle with anticipation of something more - something she shouldn’t think about after their argument.

How can she trust his change of heart has nothing to do with the fact she’s the Sun Summoner? How can she ever trust him at all?

Clearing her throat, she pulled herself off Aleksander. “Put something on, someone might come in”, she told him as she secured her pants back on. She could hardly look at him, afraid he’d weaken her resolve. She couldn’t forgive him so easily, even if her heart ached for him.

“Let me in”, a voice from outside the tent made Y/N look to the entrance with a frown.

She crossed the distance swiftly, her hands ready in case she had to use her sword. She goes to place her hand on the hilt only to find her sword is not on her.

It’s a good thing that’s not her only weapon.

“Hey!” She shouts at the Grisha as they pulled someone away. “Stop!”

“General?!” Mal laughs as he manages to look back at her, fighting against the Grisha.

“Mal?” She chuckles, glad to see he’s still alive. 

“Leave him alone!” She orders, feeling a presence behind her. She didn’t need to look to know it’s Aleksander. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t in the mood for anymore talking.

“You’re alive?!” Mal goes in for the hug, but his eyes catch a glimpse of Kirigan’s glare and he slowly backs away. “We need to regroup.”

“How many have we lost?” She frowns.

“You’re Grisha now”, Aleksander speaks up. “You don’t have to fight for the humans.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she scoffs at him. How could he even think she’d give up on her people now? 

“That’s not something I’d like. I enjoy my humanity.”

She was the flame who lit his life on fire and while he was burning, he wanted to thank her for it and ask her to stay a while longer. Darkling nearly chuckled at the thought of calling her fire, but she is and he craves the burn.

The Darkling wanted Y/N to be the one addicted to him, in equal measure as he was addicted to her. He wanted to give her a reason to stay with him, if not for love, then for lust. He’d find a way to her heart in the meantime and knowing they’ll have a forever comforts him, but he needed to have her in every other way until then.

He knew he could make her truly happy if she’d let him and he wasn’t about to let her go.

Not without a fight.

Watching her walk away with the soldier, he clicked his tongue. Mal, whoever he is, poses a threat he needs to handle.

Swiftly.

=============================

A/N - I struggled so much writing this chapter, hope you guys like it. I’m probably gonna pass out now, I’m exhausted. xx

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren  @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl @yagorlemmalyn @gonehopelessgirl @fefethecoffeeaddict @naughtynecromancer @poison-of-the-ivie @strawb3rrydr3ss @supersouthy @theilliterateironman @evyiione @kimoranelson03 @wizardwheezes @woodsabby6 @liajiah @its-carlerrr​ 

PART 14

[lillianastras]

“Hit Me With Your Best Shot” -- The Darkling x Reader

Pairing: The Darkling x Reader (no surprise here)

Warnings: none, I think

Summary: The Darkling and his second spar in the morning, after he starts to doubt her abilities have worsened over time.

A/N: I feel so great that I actually used my own experience in martial arts for writing this. Also, I’m so empowered by all the great feedback I’m getting from you guys. If anyone has requests, please send those my way!

“Rule number one,” he says, “Only take a break after saying you need a break. Otherwise I won’t know and will wipe the ground with you.” Her eyebrows shoot up and he has to fight a smile, glad he caused the reaction. “Rule number two,” he continues, hands behind his back, his wrists wrapped in cloths, to numb the harshness of his blows. “No Small Science. Whatever you do to me, you do it with your own two hands.” “That was just plain filthy.”

This time Aleksander grits his teeth, not appreciating the interruption. She is standing in the middle of the training grounds, arms crossed in front of her chest, the same irritated expression on her face since she had woken up. He could tell she was looking around, looking for an opportunity, an excuse to leave. Yet, there is little chance that anyone else is up this early, except by the pair of guards by the gate.

“The Drüsskele attacks are getting more aggressive than ever,” he hisses , trying his best not to raise his voice at her. “You need to know how to defend yourself when they hold your hands apart.”  It’s not happening again, he thinks. The years have passed, but even time didn’t manage to blur the memory of Luda bleeding out on the ground. “I know how to defend myself!” She hisses back, and the Darkling gives her a cold stare.

“Ivan said he managed to tackle you to the ground several times yesterday.”

Her lips curl in disdain, but not for Ivan, he knows. She likes the Heartrender probably as much as he does, which came as a surprise at the start. He is rude and harsh, but even he manages to crack the occasional smile to two in her presence. That’s just how she is.

No, he thinks, the grimace just proves the truth in his words. Her skills had deteriorated, and she needs to get herself together. For her own good.

“Ivan is bigger than me,” she mumbles, but her eyes are staring at the ground. Even she realises this is a poor excuse, if any excuse at all. 

“They are always going to be bigger than you. And I might not be there to have your back at all times.” It might not matter, he thinks bitterly, and his hands ball into fists, even if I am.

“Alright.” The easy agreement comes as a surprise, although easy might be an understatement. She gave her best efforts to keep him in bed this morning with gentle caresses, suggestive whispers and kisses down his neck. But still, he had dragged her outside as quickly as he could and she was sour ever since.  “Let’s see if you get to wipe the ground with me.” She adds and he knows he managed to annoy her.

She takes her battle stance, her guard up and the Darkling sighs, eyes turning to look around. The sun is starting to rise higher in the sky and he realises he has little time left, just because no, Aleksander, you cannot ruin my reputation by throwing me around in front of everyone. Soon, people would start waking up, ready to start the day and they would have to leave training for tomorrow, when he would have to bring himself to say no to her advances again and… No. They have to start today.

She raises her eyebrow at him, challenge barely veiled, and he takes a deep breath, letting the thrill of the upcoming fight wash over him.

His first punch is not that fast, he knows, and she manages to dodge it with ease. Her elbow slams in his chest in return and was most probably going do force the air from his lungs if he hadn’t tensed. He is forced a step back. When he looks at her, there’s a small cold smirk growing on her face. She isn’t that out of practise after all. The Darkling squints his eyes and starts to pay more attention.

This time she doesn’t wait for him to charge, and when she aims her foot for between his legs, he knows he had touched a nerve. He blocks the kick with his forearm, but he doesn’t bother stop the grin that is slowly stretching on his face. Quick as a cat, he closes the distance between them, taking a tight hold of her wrists, their faces so close she could head-butt him in the nose if she wanted to.

“Is that why you’re so irritable all morning,” he asks, letting out a quiet grunt when she stomps on his foot, but he doesn’t let go. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with you?” This time he manages to move his foot in time and she groans as she misses. “For real?”

“No,” she answers quickly, too quickly, and he grins even wider, because her reaction is so petty, that he can’t really help himself. “You’re putting way too much faith in your ability to —” 

He doesn’t let her finish and puts his foot behind hers, giving her a harsh push. She looses her balance and falls ass first on the muddy ground, shock written on her beautiful face.

He grins down at her, reaching out a hand to help her up. She finally comes back to her senses and looks around, her pants and shirt far from clean, mud covering her hands. She grits her teeth and whispers something under her breath, and Aleksander recognises Ivan’s name, followed by a string of curses. She then glares up at him and stands up on her own, ignoring his open hand. 

“Again,” she demands, squinting her eyes against the reddish strays of the morning sun. The Darkling attacks again, this time not holding back as much as the first time. 

He doesn’t realise how much time passes, punches delivered and blocked from both of them, until they are both panting messes, sweat dripping from their foreheads and sticking strands of hair to their skin. Aleksander allowed himself a moment of distraction, glancing around the training grounds. The palace was slowly coming back to life, voices heard from inside and the occasional kefta-clad figure running around the place.

“Scared someone will see that you’re getting your ass kicked?” Her guard is up and he can’t see the shit-eating grin that is plastered on her face, but he can practically hear it. It’s amazing what an hour of good sparring can do for one’s mood.

“You wish,” he calls back. “Final round?”

“I thought you’ll never ask.”

A smile creeps its way on the Darkling’s face. He takes slow, careful steps to the side, circling her, and her eyes follow him, not even blinking. Yet she is too focused on his movements that she doesn’t notice him close the distance at all. Just like he intends. 

She is so surprised by the sudden attack, that she barely fights back when he grabs her wrist and gives her a harsh tug. He bends it behind her back in a swift motion, enough to trap it between his body and hers. 

His free hand goes straight for her throat, fully pressing her back against him.

She tries to wriggle out of his grasp, but he presses her forearm slightly upwards and she hisses in pain, giving the hand that is wrapped around her throat a few quick taps, to let him know she surrenders. He stops the pressure on her arm, but doesn’t let go just yet. He leans in, his breath tickling her ear. “Not too bad,” he whispers, and he has to remind himself that they are out in public, “but you still have much to learn.”

She finally releases her, and grins when she turns around and her eyes are a little hazy. She takes a deep breath and when her gaze finds his, she shakes her head at his smirk, her hand rubbing her wrist to dissolve any pain.

“Careful General,” she lowers her voice to a whisper and theatrically looks around, as if to make sure no one is listening. “Someone might actually see you smile.” She sighs. “Can we call this a draw?”

He outright laughs at her audacity. “A draw? You didn’t win even one round!”

“I disagree.” She shakes her head and gives him a cocky raise of her eyebrow and a wave of her hand.“Plus that last one was hardly fair.”

His gaze hardens. Even though the last round really was more playful than aggressive, he had managed to disarm her and have the upper hand after all. If it wasn’t his hand around her throat, she’d be dead. She needed the practice.

As though she reads his mind, she rolls her eyes. “I won’t admit that you were right.”

He snorts a humourless laugh. He doesn’t really expect her to.  “But we continue tomorrow.” It’s neither a request, nor a question. It’s an order from a General to his warrior.

She sighs and he knows she’s about to murmur some complaint. Shockingly, gives in with a shake of her head and after a long observation of her clothes, ruined from the mud, she mutters a quiet. “You’re the boss.”

He grins. “I’m the boss.”

[starlsssankt]

She had been a jewel shining brighter than any other female at the gathering. He'd not been able to let his gaze stray from her, even as Aleksander took whatever chance he could to brush fingers across her skin. Her waist, her arm, her hand-- it didn't matter where, so long as he touched her. Was connected to her.

When they'd made it back to the room, when his lips finally connected with hers as a groan bubbled past, swallowed by her mouth, it was everything he'd wanted; everything Aleksander had needed--

He frowned, though, as her gaze drifted away, as it seemed like Anastasiya pulled back from him. There was doubt in her voice, and he hated it, wanted to rip apart any and all who had put it there in the first place.

Taking her chin between his thumb and finger, Aleksander guided Anastasiya's gaze back to his. ❝ I am yours, Ana. In whatever way you wish, in whatever you want, I am yours and that will never change. ❞ He kissed her then, soft, tender. Longing.

If she thought he only wanted her for sexual pleasure, she would soon (hopefully) learn otherwise.

Because Aleksander wanted all of it with her. Everything, always.

------

The night had been wonderful, magical even. It had felt breathing, but then she'd close to Aleksander. She hadn't found the courage to wander too far from him yet.

She hummed falling back on the bed, her head buzzing. She smiled into another kiss, feeling her dress loosen.

She yawned, reaching for his wrist.

"Can - would it be okay if we just cuddled and kissed tonight? I just - I think I just want soft things tonight."

She looked away, picking at the bedspread. Those old doubts slid like oil through her now. That's all males wanted right? And as perfect, and virtuous as he was - he wouldn't be that perfect? There had to be some fault line, some way he was using her like Mama said to -

[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter seven

with alina in the wind, general kirigan now has scramble to find her. the only person he has to get through is you.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] aleksander morozova (general kirigan) x reader

word count: 1.5k

warning(s): suggestive?

here’s the masterlist

when you regained consciousness, you attempted to open your eyes, quickly shutting them after being met with blinding lights. you felt aches all over your body. cold intrusions weighted your wrists as you shifted them, accompanied by the clanking of chains. you could hear the bustling crowds outside, conversations about the famed general kirigan being in kribirsk. the wind kissed your cheeks red when several masses moved into wherever you were being held (you presumed a tent).

“get up.”

not carrying for the tone, you pretended to sleep. after several moments passed, your chains were yanked. you fell onto the floor, your muscles pulsating in pain.

“what a lovely wake-up call.” you wrestled against the hands grabbing at you and, when you lost, were forced to sit up. “you know, i usually get to know someone before getting rough. we all have our kinks i suppose.”

a high-pitched giggle rang before it was muffled (not very well though). with a cleared throat, it ceased completely. you slowly opened your eyes to observe the room. a total of five bodies: zoya, ivan, a palace guard, a durast, and aleksander. you’ve gotten out with higher odds stacked against you.

“tell me where they went.”

you rolled your eyes and smirked. “unfortunately for you, my dear general, i’ve only sent them off. just told them to run far from ravka.”

your former lover glanced at ivan who shrugged. he breathed in deeply, clenching his fists. he squatted in front of you and called out to his subordinates. “leave us.”

one by one, they left the tent, zoya hovering by the opening with a nasty look on her face. you looked at her and winked. her lips curled into a sneer before she huffed away.

you returned your attention to aleksander who took the opportunity to come closer to you. you leaned back but failed, closed in by a bench. you watched as his hands rested on your knees. you tried to shake them off only for him to grip tighter as they climbed your legs. you met his half-lidded eyes, thrown off by the (scandalously) familiar gaze.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you said, your eyes darting from his eyes to his lips.

a lazy smile took residence on his face, his tongue flitting across his bottom lip. “did you not miss it?”

feeling very confused and slightly mortified, you tilted your head away from him. “miss what?” you asked.

“our rendezvouses. how you could have me groveling at your feet with a simple touch. how i begged to use my mouth to please you,” he whispered. he rested his hands, kneading your inner thighs.

you scoffed. “did alina rejecting your advances give you brain damage? you really thought i would—”

your words were swallowed when his lips meshed with yours. you would be lying if it didn’t make you have butterflies. after being apart for years, you couldn’t tell if it felt right or nostalgic. stopping yourself from getting lost in the feeling, you shoved him away with your bounded wrists and bolted up. aleksander stumbled back, looking bewildered and distant.

“how dare you?” you spat. “trying to seduce me again for your stupid ambitions? let me be very clear, aleksander. you may have fooled me once, but there will not be a second time.”

you snorted and shook your head, a flurry of emotions rising in you.

“for thirty years, i wondered why i wasn’t enough for you? for fate? did i not follow you faithfully? did i not hang off your every word? did i not love you more than my own life?!”

furious tears welled as you heaved heavily. aleksander was still, his mouth parted, looking as if he wanted to say something. you couldn’t afford to give him the chance anymore. the stitches in your heart were breaking at the seams.

“i hated the world for so long for not giving me the powers you desired. i hated myself over things i couldn’t control. i knew for months that i was not your fated, your wistful destiny, but i stayed. i hoped that your words were empty and you said those things in a drunken stupor, but they say drunken words are sober thoughts. i was a fool to wish otherwise.

“the day i left was the day i stopped allowing myself to mourn over the fact that you were no longer mine. i finally saw my worth and decided that i would love someone else who would too.” you wiped away the tears that fell, then closed your eyes to prevent more from falling.

“did you?”

“what?” you whispered tiredly.

you heard him shuffle to stand, his shoes dragging against the carpet. “did you find someone else to love?” he weakly asked.

you made the mistake of opening your eyes. you took in his appearance—his red, glossy eyes that bore into you and the subtle way his frame wilted. you couldn’t decide whether to scoff at the audacity of him, acting as if he was the victim, or cry at the sight of his regretful posture. even through everything, a small part of you desperately wanted to believe him and embrace him, but you knew you couldn’t—that you shouldn’t.

“i did,” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“oh,” he breathed. “are you still...”

“we parted ways prior to my being here.”

he hummed softly and looked to the sky—like he was praying to the saints. “what if... i was being sincere? would you give me a chance to prove it?”

a scoff left you in disbelief, bitterness coating your voice. “you continuing to pursue your delusions is proof enough for me.”

with longing eyes, he stepped closer to you and captured your hands in his. he bent his neck to level with you. “what i’m doing… what i have been doing for the past five-hundred years… it’s all been to make ravka safer, to make grisha safer, to make you safer.”

you turned away, your will to not fall fading, only for him to tilt your chin towards him. he cradled your face in his palm, brushing away stray tears. “please, [y/n]. i admit, i made one of the biggest mistakes in my life not searching for you. i believed that you were a placeholder, someone to keep me satisfied until the sun summoner came. when you left, i realized how wrong i was.

“every single day, for 30 years, you were my first and last thought. how are they? are they safe? i hope no harm has come to them. [y/n], when you appeared before the king, you don’t understand how relieved i was to see you. at first, i was angry and spiteful at you for leaving me alone, but, as time passed and we fell into routine, my love resurfaced and won.”

you chuckled. “and what would you have me believe alina was? i saw it in your eyes at the winter fete. the same affection i once thought you held for me.”

“the winter fate?” he paused before smiling. “[y/n], you must’ve caught me thinking of you wearing that kefta.”

you grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from your face, the heavy chains grounding you. “you must think me stupid to believe that.”

then, aleksander looked grief-stricken. he fell onto his knees, his lips ghosting over your hands. “what do i have to do to make you believe me, [y/n]?”

you offered a sad smile. “destroy the fold… then, and only then, will i believe that your words aren’t pretty lies to trick me into complying.”

you turned as much as the chains could afford you. “please leave me be,” you whispered.

it felt like eons before you heard him move away. “there will be an expedition through the fold tomorrow. we are to escort foreign diplomats. so, rest up.”

wind rushed back into the tent as he left. once the tent flapped shut, you sank into the ground. tears streamed down your face as you pounded your chest, trying to relieve some of the sorrow. you hated yourself for even hoping that some of what aleksander said was true. you hated that, unlike what you wished to be, you were still easily manipulated by his charms.

i hate that i can’t hate you.

—

unbeknownst to you, aleksander’s heart was rabid and his duplicity dissolved, almost like the kiss was a rush of cold water. he couldn’t find it in himself to deceive you—or himself—anymore.

at first, he was attempting to seduce you. but, when he had kissed you… it was like all those years without you were unreal. it was like he hadn’t lived in the moments where you weren’t there by his side. it was like he could finally let go of the breath he never knew he was holding.

he was a blind man who was given the gift of sight, a deaf man given the wonders of hearing.

he had never felt more stupid in his life. he already had his equal. [y/n] was there, presiding over his heart, and he was an idiot to believe what he felt for them was something akin to complacency.

“general kirigan!”

blinking, he looked up to see ivan running towards him. he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

the heartrender stopped by his side, leaning closer. “we found the sun summoner and the stag. should we bring them in?”

aleksander glanced back at your tent, then turned away ashamed. “bring them unharmed. bring the tracker too.”

taglist (could tag the bolded ones): @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott @deceivedeer @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @sarcastic-and-cool @supersouthy @let-love-bleeds-red @andwhatofthelight @all-art-is-quite-useless​ @mixed-imagination​ @ashdab2611​ @aria-grace-scott​ @multifandom-addict​ @aleksanderwh0r3​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @kirigansgf​ @evyiione​ @theoutsidelandhere​ @wizardwheezes​ @partiesandblurrypolaroids​ @pansysgirlfriend​ @takethee​ @its-carlerrr​ @kaqua​ @rachellovesharry @imrann123456

author’s babble: now, there’s a dilemma for me. i think i see two ways this can go. crack!fic-ish or no crack!fic-ish. i will keep the crack!fic-ish portion separate. if you’d like to read the alt route, you can start with this! it’s the alt route ending of chapter seven *:ﾟ*｡⋆ฺ(*´◡`)

[marvelmusing]

Starting Over

Pairing: Mafia!Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader x Mafia!Alina Morozova

Summary: One of your colleagues, Mal, brings the head of the Morozov family in for questioning - something you had discouraged him from doing for his own sake.

Warnings: Mafia AU, very slight reference to sex, Mal insults reader, mentions of pregnancy (not reader).

My Masterlist

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“When you said Morozov owns everyone in this city…” Mal’s voice trails off, as the final pieces come together in his mind, even though he can still hardly dare to believe it.

You were the agency’s finest operative, everyone either loved or feared you. Everyone looked up to you. He had looked up to you.

Mal blinks in disbelief as you unlock the handcuffs keeping Alina’s wrists attached to the interrogation table. She doesn’t rub her wrists as she leans back in her chair, watching you with delight dancing in her eyes.

“I meant it.” You say, circling behind Alina and perching yourself on the edge of the table, facing Aleksander. “They own me: mind, body, and soul.”

Your fingers trace delicately over Aleksander’s brow, brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from his face. With a soft smile you reach down, and unlock his handcuffs as well.

“Mne zhal, moya lyubov.” You say gently, the Ravkan rolling easily over your tongue. I’m sorry, my love.

Aleksander stands, towering over you even as you remain sitting on the table. But you’re not the one he’s looking down at, and you relish in the fear gathering in Mal’s eyes as he shrinks into his seat on the opposite side of the table.

You had told him not to go after the Morozov family. What he had assumed was friendly advice among colleagues - the kind that he would ignore in order to gain a quick promotion - was actually a threat. To go against them was to go against you.

“You should have accepted my offer, Malyen Oretzev.” There’s no anger in Aleksander’s voice. You know he is indifferent towards Mal. You’re the one who had suggested that he could be a useful asset for Aleksander’s business. Though now you would never know.

Aleksander buttons up the front of his blazer, smoothing down the fabric carefully. Then, he holds out his palm, extending it towards Alina. She smiles, accepting his hand immediately. He tucks it into the crook of his arm, and they both start towards the door.

Mal stands, his chair scraping over the concrete floor. You’re between him and the couple within an instant. He laughs shortly.

“You’re really going to stand here and protect them? You think they care about you?”

You can hear them both freeze. You swallow hard, willing yourself not to listen to his words, and to reassure yourself that there’s no truth to them. Tilting your head slightly, you look him up and down.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Mal. Aleksander is doing me a kindness by not dealing with you personally.”

“Oh he is?” He smirks, and your skin crawls when he looks over your shoulder at Aleksander with a smug expression. You already regret not allowing Aleksander to deal with him. “I suppose it saves them money. Two for the price of one - a bodyguard and a whore.”

It feels like a slap to the face. You mean more than just your usefulness to them both, and they remind you of it everyday - but even still it’s hard for you to believe it. Mal grins as if he knows your hidden fears, and is enjoying pulling them out of you.

“Have a nice night Mal.” You say quietly, showing nothing on your face. You know he’s surprised by your casual words, and the fact that you had completely ignored his insults. “I have a feeling it’ll be the last enjoyable one you’ll be having for quite some time.”

Then you’re turning away, leading Aleksander and Alina out into the hallway.

Your breathing is shaky as you step into the elevator and select the lobby button. Alina’s hand slides into yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Taking a few slow breaths, you manage to calm down somewhat, though your grip on her hand is still tight.

She drops your hand when the elevator doors open, and you lead them both out through the lobby and into the parking lot.

Ivan stands waiting by the car. He nods in acknowledgment when he sees you, then slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car. Alina takes your hand again.

“Will you be coming with us?”

“I really shouldn’t. For the sake of appearances, I should try and look like I’m still doing my job.”

“But?” She says softly, playing with each of your fingers as you struggle with your thoughts.

“But, after today, I’m honestly struggling to find it within myself to care.”

“Then quit.” Aleksander says, opening the car door and standing beside it. You meet his eyes and he gives you a knowing look. “I would look after you.” His gaze lingers on his wife. “As I do for Alina.”

She smiles at you. As much as you love your job, you long to do as he says. To wake up in their arms every morning, being held and kissed beneath the sheets, warm and safe with them both. To finally devote time to your hobbies. Aleksander had created an entire art studio for Alina. There’s no question that he would do the same for you, whatever your interests, he would give you the money and resources to do whatever you pleased. As long as it made you happy.

You would help Alina make dinner for Aleksander, and eat at the kitchen table together. Share bubble baths together. Dress up in beautiful clothes just to show them off to them both. Alina has always wanted you to do yoga with her, especially after you had made a comment about Aleksander twisting you into odd positions.

It’s beautiful - the little daydream you had always indulged in when the stressors of daily life threatened to overwhelm you. But now, that daydream could be a reality. It was within your grasp.

But still, you were terrified. What if they got bored of you? What if, once you were no longer useful as an inside agent, they realise that they were merely tolerating you to get what they wanted? What if they just asked you to leave? You would have nothing without them.

As if sensing your thoughts, Alina tugs on your hand, pulling it close to her body. Your palm settles on her stomach.

“You could help me paint the nursery.” She suggests.

Warmth blooms in your chest, and you spread your fingers wider to feel over where the baby is inside her. The baby that they want you to raise alongside them as your own. The four of you as a family.

Glancing over at Aleksander, you see him watching the two of you with a fondness reversed only for the most important people in his life. That look alone makes your choice easy.

You nod.

“Let’s go home.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[malghra]

I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you

Darklina Week Day 4: Fairy Tales: Darklina Red Riding Hood / Company of Wolves AU

Title from Talyor Swift's So it goes, Rating: M

Winter had been hard on Old Baghra and Ana Kuya was worried about her, so she decided that Alina should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some food and kvas. On her way there, Alina meets a stranger...

Winter had been hard on Old Baghra and the staff at Duke Keramsov's household were worried about her, so it was decided that Alina should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some food and kvas. The fastest way to get there was through the forest, but Ana Kuya had warned Alina that the woods were dangerous and that she should never stray from the path.

She'd nodded eagerly, mostly to avoid one of Ana Kuya's lectures on acts of kindness and the importance of community, but behind her back Alina had sulked and pouted. It was one of the first sunny days of the year and she'd wanted to spend it in the meadow with Mal. But now she'd have to spend her day struggling through the forest with a heavy basket.

She took her red shawl from the hook on the door, wrapping it around her shoulders, and decided to go and find Mal anyway. He would go with her if she asked.

They were almost outside the front gate, when they heard Ana Kuya call out to them. "Malyen Oretsev, where do you think you're going?"

They exchanged a look and Alina bit her lip. Should they try to make a run for it? Unfortunately, Ana Kuya was closer than they'd thought.

Mal turned around and answered her question innocently. "I'm going with Alina to bring this basket to Old Baghra."

"And did I tell you to do this?" she asked in exasperation. "You need to stay here."

"But you said the woods aren't safe!" Alina objected. "Mal should come with me, to protect me!"

That earned her an ear boxing, and Mal was sent away to help the young men as they started repairs on the house after the long winter.

By the time Alina entered the forest, Ana Kuya's warnings had already slipped to the back of her mind.

Winter had passed and now that spring was reigning, the woods had never looked more beautiful. The trees were blooming, flower springing up along the path, and the moss and ferns covering the forest floor and scattered rocks were the green of emeralds, drops of dew that had not yet disappeared making them sparkle like the gems they resembled in the sunlight filtering through the leaves.

She took in the enchantment of it all with wide eyes and quickly forgot about the dangers that might be lurking. The trees and brushes were alive with animals awaking after the long lull of winter and the song of birds was filling both the forest and Alina's heart with joy. She hadn't gotten far when she could no longer resist joining them in their singing.

She sang as one would only sing when they are alone, so as was bound to happen, she soon discovered she was not alone at all. The man appeared from a gap between the trees some three feet ahead of her, stopping her in her tracks.

He stood there looking at her, arms loosely crossed over his chest and his head cocked to the left. He was tall and slender, with a shock of dark hair and dressed in black wool and leathers. Alina closed her mouth, realizing she was staring at him. "Good day to you, sir," she called out.

"And good day to you, milaya," he answered as he started strolling over to her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she tried to remember what Ana Kuya had said about strange men.

"Please, zolotse, do not stop your singing on my behalf, I was quite enjoying it," he told her, holding her gaze.

His words pleased her, but she could feel heat flushing her cheeks. He blinked slowly, licking his lips and Alina's heart sped up inside her chest.

"May I walk with you for a spell?" he asked, his slate grey eyes open and kind.

Despite herself, she nodded and clutched the basket she was carrying a little closer to her body.

They walked in silence for a while, until he asked, "What's your name, milashka?"

"Alina," she answered breathlessly.

"Alina," he repeated, as if trying to taste it on his tongue, and the way his lips curled around her name sent a shiver down her spine.

"I am Aleksander," he added with a smile which didn't really look like a smile all that much, even if she couldn't decide why.

She glanced over at his face as they walked. He had a sharp and smug look about him, a bit dour even perhaps, she mused, but when he met her eyes or offered her that odd smile, something fluttered deep inside her stomach.

"What do you have inside that basket of yours?" Aleksander asked.

"Food and kvas for Old Baghra. She lives near the bridge three miles south of the creek," she answered him.

For a brief moment, Alina could have sworn that a shadow passed over his face, but then he exclaimed,"But you're taking the long way!" his eyes wide and innocent.

"Of course not," she countered with a smile. "The fastest way is through the woods."

"Yes," he agreed, "It is. Through the woods, but you are following the path."

"Ana Kuya told me not to stray from the path," she mumbled, hating how silly she must sound to him.

He offered her a half-smile. "Ah, you're a good girl, aren't you? I bet you do every little thing your mother tells you to do, now don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, her face flushing with anger this time, and he barked out a laugh.

"Ana Kuya is not my mother!" she spat at him. "I'm an orphan!"

"Ah, I see," he muttered matter-of-factly, and she was oddly grateful for the lack of pity in his voice and eyes.

They walked in silence, until Aleksander muttered her name again, and Alina automatically glanced up at him.

"Why exactly did Ana Kuya tell you not to stray from the path?" he asked her, head cocked to the side again.

"I..." she opened and closed her mouth. "She said it was dangerous," she told him, picking up her pace.

He easily kept up with her. "But why?" he wanted to know.

She bit her lip. She wasn't about to admit that she didn't know why. "It's better if we stay on the path."

He raised an eyebrow. "We? You can stay on the path if you like, lapushka, but I'll bet you I can get there faster than you can."

Her hands tightened on the handle of the basket. She nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Of course, I'll need a prize if I win the bet, wouldn't you agree?"

He held her gaze, but Alina didn't look away.

"What kind of prize?" she breathed, her voice betraying her.

"How about a kiss?" he asked.

Her heart started hammering again, closing up her throat and making it impossible to speak as her eyes dropped to his full lips. She glanced up to meet his eyes and nodded.

"Let me take your basket," he offered.

She handed it to him and then watched him disappear between the trees. She began walking faster, determined to win the bet. A kiss, she thought as her feet carried her down the path. She'd never been kissed before, but she tried to imagine it. She wondered if his lips would feel as soft as they looked.

Perhaps she wouldn't mind losing the bet. Perhaps she wouldn't mind being kissed by this odd but exciting stranger. She realized she'd slowed down again and looked around, taking in her surroundings. To her left, there was a small clearing between the trees which was filled with blue flowers.

Perhaps she wouldn't mind making sure that he won the bet. Perhaps it would be for the best if she didn't take any chances. She abandoned the path and walked into the clearing to pick some flowers and weave them into a crown. That would give him enough of a headstart to get there first.

Alina ended up lingering there for a longer time than she'd intended, singing under her breath and picking all of the prettiest flowers, but eventually she'd made her way to Old Baghra's cottage. It was already getting dark and the wind filled the evening with a menacing chill, but Alina didn't shiver, she had her shawl to keep her warm.

There was no sign of the stranger called Aleksander, so she knocked on the door and called out: "Baghra, it's Alina!"

No answer came.

"Baghra," she repeated a little louder than the first time. She tried knocking on the door again and slowly, it creaked open. As soon as she stepped inside, the warm and dusty, musky air inside filled her nostrils, making her sneeze and cough. A clattering noise came from the far side of the room.

Old Baghra was nowhere to be seen, but perched on the bed in the corner of the hut was her dark stranger.

Suddenly he was on his feet and the door clicked shut. She turned around to find him standing close to her, his eyes glowing in the dusk. It was quiet inside, except for the rattling still coming from the corner of the room.

"What big eyes you have," she whispered, clutching the ends of her shawl around her shoulders.

"All the better to see you with, Alina," he replied.

She was about to turn around to examine the annoying clunking noise she kept hearing, when a chorus of howls rose up all around the hut. She hissed, startled by the sound.

"Those are my brothers," the wolf told her.

She turned to look out the window, but it was too dark to see. "It's getting really cold outside," she whispered. He was standing right behind her, so close she could feel the heat rolling off his body.

She whirled around, clutching his forearms to steady herself. "What big arms you have," she muttered.

He leaned in until his nose was almost touching hers. "All the better to hold you with," he said.

She averted her eyes, her breath catching in her throat, and she licked her lips as her eyes fell on his mouth. She remembered she'd promised him a kiss. She angled her face up until she could press her lips to his.

Outside the wolves started howling again. It sounds like a song, she thought, a joyous song.

His lips parted under her attention and she pulled his soft bottom lip between her own. She felt something wet and warm nudge her lip.

"Your prize," she explained as she pulled away.

He smiled that odd smile, his teeth gleaming in the dark.

"What big teeth you have," she whispered.

His smile grew wider, showing even more of his teeth. "All the better to eat you with, lapushka."

In the corner where the bed stood, the clamouring resumed.

"Did you eat Old Baghra?" Alina asked.

He nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows.

She didn't know how to feel about that. "She was old and ugly and smelly. I bet she didn't taste very nice," she piped up.

"Not really, no," he admitted, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. "But you are young and pretty and you smell like flowers. I bet you'd taste sweet."

She giggled and objected, "I'm not a piece of meat."

He chuckled softly. "Show me, Alinushka."

She unwrapped her shawl and let it drop to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her as her fingers unlaced the bodice of her dress. He sucked in a sharp breath as it slid down her body and pooled at her feet. After that she removed her chemise and let it join the heap at her feet.

His eyes followed her as she walked to the bed and lay down on it, waiting for him to follow.

He started undressing and she bit her lip as her mesmerized eyes drank in his body. But when his last piece of clothing hit the floor, the man was gone and an enormous black wolf with glowing red eyes was standing there instead.

The wolf leapt up on the bed and even though Alina's heart was pounding inside her chest, she found that she was not afraid. The wolf lay down next to her, placing its huge head in her lap, and whined softly.

She patted its ears and neck and the wolf nuzzled at her belly and her maidenhair. Suddenly, instead of black fur, she was clasping thick strands of dark hair between her fingers. The wolf was a man again.

He pushed her thighs apart and pressed his lips to her most intimate place. His warm, wet tongue nudged her lower lips, slipping in between them.

"Yes, you taste sweet, lapushka," Aleksander told her in a rough voice. His eyes were dark and ravenous, but they didn't scare her.

"Kiss me," she begged him, so he did.

Alina had been warned to stay away from dark strangers, and she had been told that only wicked girls let dangerous men take their precious maidenheads, but she gave hers up willingly and called her dark wolf husband. The blood staining the sheets was as bright as her pretty red shawl, but it didn't disturb her as she slept peacefully under a starless sky, safely wrapped up in the embrace of his tender darkness.

[luminescenc1e]

They had reached some tentative peace, where each day was more or less the same, lulling them both in some kind of wretched routine. He hated it, the endless rules that he had to abide by, but he would, in the end. She needed to make the first move, otherwise, this would not work. So he made sure to give her time and space, made sure for them to go places, and do things that she would enjoy. He would still touch her, small little touches that did nothing to quell the ever-rising need, but he kept it in check. Her heat would be upon them soon, and there would be no small feat, no small lingering grazes with his fingers. She would be fully his and both of them knew it.

So he allowed this time to be used to get to know each other, to feel familiar, for her to feel safe. It was almost nice, but it was never enough. Instead of sleeping in his bed, she slept in hers, instead of being by his side, she fought against her nature and stayed in the library, endlessly reading. She was stubborn, but he liked that about her, it was more enjoyable to know that after all this time, she would be his.

“ Morning Alina. ” With his hands clasped behind his back, Aleksander moved towards her slowly, as if not to spook her. One hand moved to catch a stray strand of hair that he gently moved behind her ear, and fingers moved across her chin before he stepped away. “ I think we need to talk, about next week. ”

He continued, making himself comfortable at the table and pouring another cup of coffee. “ Do you think it would be wiser for us to spend more time together before your heat starts? So you are more comfortable with it? Nothing that you wouldn’t want, of course. But more touching, you can initiate it, if you want. What do you say? Unless you had other plans? ”

@luminescenc1e

Two months after 'meeting' Aleksander, Alina found herself residing in his home in Os Alta. The Omega had never been to the city before and found herself longing for Os Kervo. Having lived nearly all her life in Keramzin, Alina had quickly taken to the ability to go to the shore whenever she wished while in Os Kervo. Now, so far from it, she couldn't help but compare her current location to Kermazin.

Although, perhaps the comparison wasn't totally fair; her intended mate's residence far outshone the rundown children's home that she'd grown up in.

Staying with Aleksander wasn't as bad as she thought it might be, although she would hardly admit such a thing to him. Their mating loomed in the corner of her mind yet, up until recently, she'd been able to focus on the positives. For one, she was given access to a study where she could curl up before the fire with a good book and an even better glass of wine. Alina could imagine spending many a winter night tucked beneath a blanket, basking in the warmth from the hearth. But, perhaps best of all, was the studio she spent much of her time in.

That afternoon found Alina in her favorite spot before one of the large windows, using the natural light afforded by the sunny day. Her fingers grasped a stick of charcoal as she sketched an image from memory: the peaceful meadow that she'd spent most of her free time with Mal as children.

An all too familiar scent drifted toward her, heralding the arrival of the Alpha it belonged to. Her stomach churned, though not in dread, as she continued to sketch. Her heat was supposed to begin next week, making her more susceptible to the pull she felt toward Aleksander. She was sure he was aware of what lay ahead, either from the shift in her own scent or from the information he'd gathered before their meeting in the airport terminal.

"Good morning," she said, looking toward the door when she heard footsteps pause.

Alina shifted on her stool to face him, fingers still grasping her charcoal.

[crescentcampbell]

Alina was in her chambers, where she had been locked away trying to make her newfound powers work. It was where she always seemed to be these days. If she wasn’t alone practicing her magic, she was with Baghra, being whacked with a cane for not being able to summon. She stared at her hands, willing the light to appear, and let out an intense shriek of frustration. The door to her room opened then, making her jump, and she was surprised to see The Darkling there.

She jumped at the sound of his entrance. “Aleksander,” she squeaked, “General Kirigan. What---what are you doing here?”

He smiled at her. “I’ve heard you’ve been having some trouble, Miss Starkov. I came to see if I could be of some assistance.”

She bit her lip. The last thing she wanted anyone to know, especially the General, was how hard it had been for her to adapt to her powers. She was supposed to be the savior of Ravka but all she felt like was a failure each day she didn’t get the magic that she was born with. “I’m fine,” she lied.

“Really?” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Then, you’ve mastered the summoning and you don’t need me to do it for you?”

She took a breath and hung her head. “No. No I haven’t.” AO3 LINK 

HERE THERE BE SMUT

He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of her bed where he had been practicing. He was so close; she could feel the hot heat of his breath on her face. “An awful lot of stress has been thrown out at you as of late, Miss Starkov. Do you want to know what I think you need?”

“To go back to being a cartographer?” she mumbled.

He smiled and shook his head. “No. You need to relax.”

“How can I do that when everyone from you to the King expects me to master this?” she demanded, scowling at him.

He smirked. “Sometimes, a nice, long bath can help you relax. Or reading a good book. Or…. well, you are too young perhaps….it would be unseemly….”

“Too young for what? I’m twenty, just turned,” Alina said, “I only look young.”

He chuckled. “I suppose so. Everyone looks young to me.”

“You’re not so old,” she said, “you’re only----” she tilted her head to the side and realized that maybe the last thing she wanted to do was to insult the man who gave her orders by trying to guess at his age.

He tilted his head to the side. “Careful now, Miss Starkov. Wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

She laughed. “Well, anyway, you’re not so old.”

“I’m glad to hear you think that. Now what do you want to do? We could go for a ride, or----”

“Aleksander,” she said.

“Yes?”

“What if I…I mean….I’m not exactly experienced but….”

He smiled widely at her. “What is it you are asking, Miss Starkov?”

“If you….if you could help me relax…um…by…well the soldiers always call it ‘having a tumble’.”

“Fucking, Miss Starkov,” he said, “or sex. Or making love, if you’re truly feeling sentimental. Would you like me to make love to you, Alina, in the name of helping you relax?”

She blushed but nodded her head yes anyway.

He clapped his hands together. “Excellent. But first, we must rid ourselves of our keftas.” He kissed her, as if he were going to devour her, cupping her face in his hands. Then, he started unbuttoning her kefta, and she unbuttoned hers. The only background noises being their breathless panting in between kisses.

The keftas fell to the ground, and then their pants, and before Alina knew what was happening, she was laying on her bed in only her underthings. Her bra and underwear. “What now?” she asked, as he, in only his underthings as well, straddled her.

He smiled wolfishly. “Now,” he whispered in her ear as he was kissing her neck, making her whole-body arch up into him, “I am going to make you relax Miss Starkov.”

He nudged her thighs open with his knee. Then, he removed her bra, and Alina’s heart started pounding against her chest so loudly she worried that he would here it. She was a soldier. She had been naked around people before. In a camp full of people who were always around who lived in tents, it was almost impossible that someone hadn’t walked in on another person changing at some point accidentally. But it had never been in such an intimate way before. Instinctively, she covered her breasts.

“Alina….” he said. “Now don’t cover those, they’re lovely.”

She blushed. “You think they’re lovely?”

“I think every part of you is,” he said, “and I would very much like to taste, and devour every part of you. Let me see all of you, Alina.”

Hesitantly, she removed her arms, letting him take all of her in. He took her breasts in his hands, palming them, and then he bent down and took her right nipple in his mouth. She could feel them harden under his touch, and as he sucked on one, she arched her back into his chest and a low whimper escaped her.

“Aleksanderrrr,” she called out.

He bit down, hard on her breast and she was certain that she was going to have teeth marks there for a week. It made her cry out again, but despite the pain, she liked it. He stroked the sides of her hips gently with his fingers, up and down, up, and down, making her shiver. She let out a mewling cry.

“Aleks, I want----”

“Yes?” he managed to get out as he moved his mouth from her breast, while still rolling her left nipple in between his thumb. An action which was making her bite her lip as her toes curled and rubbed against each other in response to the pleasure he was giving her.

“You,” she breathed, “please, let me have you.”

“There’s one more thing we must do, my Little Saint,” he said, “we’ve got to get you nice and ready for me.”

He put his hand between her thighs and cupped her center. He hadn’t taken off her underwear yet. Instead, he pulled it to the side, and then, then she felt his finger inside of her. “Oooh,” Alina cried out, gripping his naked shoulders so tightly her nails were digging into his skin.

Aleksander hissed, but he pressed on, stroking her center, rubbing her folds, until she could feel herself being positively wet for him. “There you are, my Little Saint,” Aleksander growled, “you are wet for me.”

He took out his finger, dripping with her wetness. He then licked it off his fingers. “The essence of my darling Santka Alina,” he said, “I wonder if tasting you will make me holy too. Or maybe we’ll be blessed when I fill you up, my dear.”

He kissed her, and then he pulled down his underwear, and he thrust his length inside of her. Alina cried out, so loudly she was certain that someone would hear her and come running. There was nothing gentle in the way that he took her. He rolled his hips against her, filling her, his skin slapping against hers. If it had been anyone else, perhaps she would have been unsettled by it.

But it was Aleksander. General Kirigan. The Darkling. The man that had taken her from nothing, given her a home, and a purpose. He was filling her up now, and she watched as his whole body clenched, and he let out a breathy call of, “Alinaaa…..”

And as he climaxed, Alina let out a cry of her own, gripping his shoulders tightly again, her nails digging harshly into his skin.

He had let go inside of her, his seed in her, dripping down her thighs as he pulled out. He rolled over on his back, breathing heavily, and looked at her with pure joy and love on his face. A stray strand of his dark hair had fallen into his eyes. Alina reached out, and brushed it back, and as she did, a spark of sunlight came from her fingertips making them both jolt.

Aleksander let out a laugh. “I think you’ve relaxed, Alina.”

She frowned. “That wasn’t somehow you, was it?”

He shook his head and kissed her deeply again. “You have depleted my energy so much I doubt I could summon a single shadow. Right now, the only thing I want is to summon another orgasm from you. Power is as much about control as it is about letting go. You let go, Alina. You relaxed.”

She blushed. “You…you make me feel…”

“Like what?” he asked, staring seriously at her.

“Comfortable,” she said, “like I really belong. For the first time in a long time.”

“You make me feel the same way, my darling Saint,” he said, “now, shall I make you feel comfortable again?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, and he rolled over on top her once more and spent the whole afternoon doing exactly that.

FIN.

[darklingswhxore]

One of the small but very important things Aleksander could have done was had Genya more involved with the other grisha, even when they all just ate dinner. He knew she was isolated, lonely and yet didn't try to integrate her with the others, at least as far as we know. This isolation ties into a lot of the Trauma she faced. Even Alina hated how the other grisha treated her. The Darkling had influence, he could have fixed this.

Here's something that is interesting. This comes from The Tailor:

{“If you tell me you cannot bear this, then I will send you from here and you need never wear those colors or walk the halls of the Grand Palace again. You will be safe, I promise you that.”

I looked up at him, not quite believing. “Safe?”

“Safe. But I can promise you this, too: You are a soldier. You could be my greatest soldier. And if you stay, if you can endure this, one day all will know it.”

.

“I can promise you safety,” he said. “Or I can promise to see your suffering repaid a thousandfold.” With the pad of his thumb, he brushed a stray tear from beneath my eye. “You decide, Genya.”}

The Darkling could have taken Genya out the moment she came to him about the abuse but instead he made a child choose between her justice and her safety. Because on the surface he looks to be kind and sympathetic. And when I first read it I so desperately wanted it to be that way but when you really examine it this was just a very cruel manipulation tactic. But others could take it differently.

He gave her to the Queen to be used as a spy. He chose to keep her in that situation instead of getting her out of it the moment he found out what was happening. The Darkling thought that the bigger picture was more important.

And when you add the punishment he gave her in Siege and Storm... He knew that even though after all the abuse she'd been through, she still loved herself physically and in every other way. And he used that information to hurt her when he mutilated her body with his monsters. Because that's what He goes after, what people cherish about themselves. Baghra her sight, Nikolai his mind and Genya her beauty.

His actions with Genya are unforgivable in my eyes. But of course I will always hate The King and the Queen the most for the abuse she faced when she was younger.

And I just want to say as a side thing. I do like the Darkling, he's actually one of my favorite characters. I find his flaws and his ambition very interesting and I understand so much of his reasoning as to why he does what he does. But there are somethings that I don't think should be ignored, nor explained away and that are unforgivable. I also may have come off as a little harsh but I only intended for this to be no more than a debate, definitely not an argument. So I'll end it here. Have a good day ✌️

I'm tired of this argument and i'm just gonna say i never said i agreed with what he did genya in the end of seige and storm that was horrific what he does to bagrha nikolai his actions cross a line .... as for the being involved part yes he could have said them to and then what it was upto the grishas they would have still behaved the same when darkling wasn't there you can't force people to be friends ......

It wasn't correct to make a child choose yes he should have done something bt i always interpreted that bit to be genuine and that's why i don't take this topic too seriously.....

And have a good day too nonnie ❣

[siderealxmelody]

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, kissing Natalia on the forehead quickly. He never liked the idea of everything getting so important he couldn't do the small affections.

"He asked if Gaheris was bad. Why he couldn't learn all the things Xaden and Alaric did. I didn't hear the question but Gaheris was musing about how if we could go back to the Primal forms we had. When we'd been things of elements and emotion we'd be harder to kill. I didn't like how interested in any of it Aleksander was. I don't think we should take them to see Gaheris anymore. I love him, but I see less and less of the child he'd been."

He'd been curious, precocious once. He has hoped Sancia would be enough one day. That it would quell whatever else lurked there.

------

Azriel's small shoulders dropped and he sighed, kicking at a stray rock.

"Well he's going to come for Solstice right? We can ask him then. Do you want to help me win against Drakon? He says he's better at darts than us."

Which wasn't true, obviously.

Sebastian bit his lip, they'd gotten out of the labor camps when Alaric was five and Xaden had been 10. They'd tried to sheild them as best as they could but -

Gaheris had been the only one able to actually protect them and not have anything left to loose.

He wondered about Sancia sometimes but now wasn't the time to dwell or ask.

"I know you can Aleksander. You have greatness in you just like your brothers. All I'm saying is just start slow, if you are that kneen on learning asl Xaden or Alaric to teach you."

He trusted his sons, Alaric would hopefully see past whatever cloth he'd spun over Alaric soon. Sebastian smiled, pulling him close and flying off.

------

Azriel brightened running to Aleksander as their father landed. He smiled up at his father and watched Sebastian speak to their ma quietly.

"Why are you back? Did you find that orb that Alaric talked about?"