#Darkling x Reader

[devilishcupid]

hot evil characters who i want to fix but will make me cry if i actually meet them in real life>>>>>>

[kasagia]

His mortal saviour

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

He woke up feeling numb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would be the worst of them all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't trust you at all.

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

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

He decided that you were too kind to be robbed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll be fine."

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

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

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

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

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

"Was?" He notes, swallowing.

"She is dead."

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

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

"It's... very nobel."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's what they say?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[melissarz]

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😍😩😍😩😍😩😍😩😍😩😍

[muxshwriting]

come to bed

Aleksander Morozova x reader

summary: you always work so hard for Ravka, your husband only wishes to reward you for such hard work || warnings: SMUT, I say again SMUT, PinV, unprotected sex (stay safe), slight aftercare, fluff || word count: 982 || masterlist

REQUESTED: would love love LOVE a soft/supportive/proud Darkling x Reader! Like, reader has had a long stressful day, and he’s really proud of the work she’s done and the strong person she is and ahhh! Make it as smutty as you feel comfortable!

The work seemed to last forever, piles upon piles of never-ending paperwork. You didn't even notice the sun slipping below the horizon, the room now only lit by candles. When you finally lift you head to glance at the grandfather clock, it reads 11:11, far later into the night than you intended.

Aleksander slipped through the door, leaning against the doorway watching you work. He was wrapped in a night robe, having readied himself for bed. But Aleksander couldn't sleep without you anymore. You had held him close every night, steadying his heartbeat and calming his turbulent dreams. He was so lucky to call you his, to come home every night to your shared bed and make everything alright. He was often the one slipping into bed late at night, working well towards midnight on war plans, committee hearings and requests from the crown. Nights like these were rare, you staying up late, engrossed in work.

Gently, he cleared his throat, alerting you to his presence. You finally look up from your papers, an unstoppable smile covering your features. He makes his way through the room, pulling you from your chair and into his arms, holding you close. His hands press into your shoulders and you lean your weight onto him, finally relaxing.

“I love you.” The confession is whispered into your neck, matched with kisses pressed into your skin. “Come to bed.” He's so gentle with you, showing you nothing but devotion.

You sigh slightly, head dropping to your chest. “Aleksander- There's work to do. I can't-“

“You've done enough milaya.” He whispered back. “Ravka can have you again in the morning, but can I have you now?”

As you turn to meet his gaze, there’s a glint of hunger simmering in his eyes. “Well,” you never could say no to his perfect face. “I suppose Ravka can wait…”

With a cheeky grin, Aleksander lifts you off your feet, gently tossing you over his shoulder and carrying out of your study. Your shared laughter echoes through the empty corridors as you playfully swat at Aleks’s back. He throws you down onto the bed, crawling on after you. You raise your head to meet his in a heated kiss and all breath exits your body.

He pulls back, eyes blown with lust. “Are you sure?”

“Get back here.”

That's all the prerogative he needs to kiss you even harder as your fingers work under his shirt to trail his marble skin. He breaks your kiss to breathe, pulling his night shirt over his head and throwing it across the room. A lazy smile covered his lips, able to completely relax with you by his side. He crawled back toward you, straining his neck so that your lips could join onto his.

His hands trail down your body, hugging your sides and coming to a rest on your hips. It’s a gentle weight, a reminder that he’s there, that he loves you. He whispers those precious words, just to make sure. You sink into the feeling, the warming glow he provides. The hunger inside you grows, the warmth becoming a fire you don’t want to put out.

“Please…”

“Please?” He whispers back, careful not to disturb the night. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you.”

Your breath quivers as you stare into his eyes, growing erratic as his hand slips lower. His fingers finally dip into your folds, pressing into you one at a time. Your yearning for his touch even though you have it. It’s not enough. You just need him.

“Sasha… I need you.”

The words got stuck in his throat as he looked down at you. There were no words to describe you, nothing that could convey the perfection Aleksander saw. His breath stuttered as he surged forward. His lips tugged at yours, tongue slipping inside as he removed his fingers.

You whine at the loss, words stuck in your throat, only coming out as broken sobs of begging. Your legs hook together behind his back, pulling him closer until he finally enters you. It's perfect, like it always is. Him, pushing up against the gummy spot in your walls, sending jolts of pleasure up and down your spine.

Your legs part as he falls between them, fitting like he had always belonged. Your walls clenched around him, breath hitching as he moves. His fingers trail across to interlace with yours as he coaxed more and more noises from your lips.

He wasn’t quiet either, his pleasure audible as he thrust his hips into yours. They were sinful to listen to, only bringing you closer to the edge you were hurtling towards. You could feel it growing with every thrust, every brush of your g-spot.

“I’m gonna-“

“Hold on.” Aleksander grunts out. “Hold on milaya, I’m almost there…”

Your back arches as pleasure ricochets through your body. His name is the only word you can utter, coming out as whines and moans you can’t control. Aleksander’s lips connect with the junction between your shoulder and your neck, nipping and sucking gently at the skin there as he whispers praises and sweet nothings.

His words tip you over the edge, sending you into a blinding pleasure that doesn’t seem to end. Your vision goes black, only hearing your heartbeat thumping in your ears and feel Aleksander emptying himself inside you.

You’re not sure if you passed out or was so taken by pleasure but hence you come back to Aleksander is gently wiping a cloth between your legs, pressing kisses to each of your thighs.

“Aleks-“

He pauses to look up at you, a contagious smile covering his face. “Yes milaya?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He says it back proudly, because he is proud of you. You are everything and more than he deserves every single day and he will forever remind you until you believe it too.

a/n: my first request!! hope you enjoyed! Also, my first time writing smut so please don’t hate me if it’s bad. Let me know if you want more stuff like this or send me a request yourself! also, happy pride!

[stillinracooncity]

I'm still waiting for new updates because my body doesn't accept only one shots, it needs a complete story full of drama from beginning to end…

[dearmantis]

Back from the dead

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x Reader

Summary: As a new servant hired to help out in the Little Palace you have a bit of trouble finding your place in the new, unfamiliar environment. It doesn't help that some of the people there seem to know you.

Warnings: mentions of death/dying alone, bleeding out

Word Count: 4k

Authors' Note: I have written something. Congrats to me. I'm not sure if I like it. This isn't edited and I'm not a native English speaker.

"Who is this for? There's no name." You ask with a frown, holding up the dark brown wooden hanger. Usually, the clothes you're supposed to deliver to the Grisha have their name and order on the hanger, but this one is empty.

The other servant in the room with you, Mira, who is currently busy hanging the Kefta of a Tidemaker onto a dark blue hanger, looks up, eyes scanning the wood before her face contorts into a grimace.

"That's for Baghra. She prefers to wash her clothes herself, but once a month, the General asks us to steal her clothes and wash and repair them. Small warning: she's probably going to yell at you when you give them back."

You pull your eyebrows together, a deep wrinkle forming between them. "Wouldn't it make sense to just put them in front of her house in a basket or something instead of giving them to her personally? Or waiting until she's out again to bring them back inside?"

Mira shakes her head quickly. The movement makes her hair look like the most expensive black satin available.

"She has definitely noticed that someone took her clothes while she was out training the kids. She's waiting for someone to return them to let out some of her anger. There's no way Baghra is leaving her house until her clothes are back and she got to verbally abuse someone. I'm sorry."

Her attention goes back to the Tidemakers kefta, her long fingered hands carefully smoothing any wrinkles out of the material while her gaze checks the clothing item for any loose threads before hanging it up on the clothing rack next to her and moving onto the next item, a cream coloured cotton blouse with some beautifully carved wooden buttons.

Your hands dig slightly into the dark fabric of the dress you're holding, trying to determine if Mira is just trying to mess with you for fun or if she's seriously trying to warn you. You've only started working in the Little Palace a week ago and rumours about Baghra quickly found your ears as well, but you foolishly assumed that you would never have to interact with her after finding out that she usually only terrorizes the kitchen staff who bring her her meals.

Carefully looking through the other clothing racks for other dark brown, unnamed hangers, you end up with eight items before you finally leave the room, Miras "good luck!" following you through the halls like a death sentence as you move to leave the Little Palace.

You want to get this done quickly, trying your hardest to talk some bravery into yourself. Getting insulted by the old woman is basically a rite of passage according to some of the things you've heard over the past few days, like getting scared to death by the General or one of his Oprichniki randomly appearing behind you, getting into a fight with a servant from the Grand Palace after they said something mean about the Little Palace, and slipping on the stairs that lead to the kitchens.

You will survive this. Many have survived this before you, and many will continue to survive this after you.

The sun is slowly disappearing behind the palace, dipping the sky into a lovely shade of bright orange, pink, purple and grey-ish blue, reminding you that you will probably be done with work soon after this delivery. You will eat dinner with the other servants, who will probably want to gossip about Baghra with you, and then you will go to sleep for the night. It'll be a nice day, maybe, after you're back.

And then a new day will begin, and hopefully, someone else will be tasked with bringing her clothes back next month.

Of course, there's still the risk of being asked to steal her clothes, but you'll simply try to avoid joining the group scheduled to collect dirty laundry, at least when it's time to sneak into her house.

You've never been a fast runner, and you can't run for long either. She would catch you and beat you to death with that stick you've heard so much about before you even realise that she noticed someone breaking in.

When the house finally becomes visible, you can feel your muscles stiffen, but you force yourself to keep going. This is your job, after all. It's already a big miracle that you got this position in the first place, considering you have no training or experience as a servant. You really can't afford to run back into the palace and cry that you're too scared of the old woman to bring her her clothes.

And saints, what if she finds out you're that scared of her? Your mother always said that people only bully you to get a reaction out of you. They find the fear in your eyes amusing.

And that's what the old woman is, right? A big, old bully who kicks the children she's supposed to train around like pebbles and verbally abuses everyone who gets a bit too close to her.

You can't be weak in front of her. You won't be weak in front of her.

You can't see the woman, but you know she's waiting. You can feel her, somehow. She's lingering in that house, waiting for you to step closer, for your shadow to come just a bit too close to her door, and then she'll rip it open before you get a chance to knock to scare you as much as possible.

It's predictable, simple, and childish, and for some reason, it feels exactly like something Baghra would do. Which is weird because you don't actually know her. You've only heard what the servants and Grisha have gossiped about in the halls of the Little Palace.

But you feel like you've known her. Back when... when you were a child, maybe? No. You grew up in a village so small that the testers don't even bother to go there anymore. You would remember a woman like Baghra, just like you remember everyone else who has ever lived in the village.

Readjusting your hold on the old woman's clothes, you finally get close to the house and take a deep breath, waiting for her to rip the door open. Your steps become heavier and slower a few metres away from the door, hopefully catching her attention before she slams it right into your face.

The plan works. When the door gets thrown open, it misses you by two whole steps. You only feel a bit of air move against your face when an older woman steps out of her home, her dark eyes focused on the clothes bundled up in your arms.

Her thin lips open, ready to begin her verbal attack and insult and ridicule everything about you, when her eyes finally move up to your face.

The words get stuck in her throat and she simply stares at you for a few seconds, eyebrows pulling together as she looks you over.

"I have your fresh laundry, Miss." You announce, trying to make your voice sound as even and calm as possible.

She. doesn't. scare. you.

You might be scaring her a bit though.

A deep frown appears on her face, quickly turning into a scowl when you hold the clothes out to her.

"Did he hide you from me for all this time? Or did you hide yourself from both of us and decided to come back because he has more power now?"

Now it's your turn to frown, confusion written all over your face.

Baghra rolls her eyes, clearly already tired of you and whatever game she thinks you're playing. You try to prepare yourself for some other speech, some explanation of whatever she believes is your plan, but then she says your name, the name you've never given her, and any form of control you had over your body seeps out of it like water through a cheese cloth.

"You supid child. Faces reappear through history, and so do voices. But both? Together? And exactly the same as the first time? Impossible. I'm not gonna fall for your schemes. Take what you need and leave before he sees you. I don't need to hear his pathetic sobbing again. I had enough of that when you first died."

Her thin arms reach out to rip the clothes out of your graps before she moves to return into her house.

"Or, well, didn't die." the old woman murmurs, her gaze finding yours once more. "You really should just stay dead."

Slamming the door shut behind her, she leaves you to stand in front of her house, completely speechless.

What just happened? What was that?

You slowly turn around and walk back to the Little Palace, unable to tell if you can actually feel Baghras eyes following you, her gaze burning itself into your back, or if its a wave of paranoia making you think that that's what's happening.

Of course you're scared. Someone who's not supposed to know your name knows your name. Nobody knows a servants name – except other servants, of course – because no one ever bothers to learn their names. That's just how it is. You're background characters who clean up and take care of the main characters. Nobody learns the name of a background character because they don't matter.

You don't matter.

But why does Baghra know? The only explanation you can come up with is that she harassed some other servant to find out everything about the new servants in hopes of scaring the absolute shit out of them. But why bother with that? For fun? Is she that bored?

Huffing quietly, you slip back into the Little Palace and go back into the basement, simply letting out a deep sigh when Mira asks you how it went. She smiles encouragingly and promises you to give you half of her desert at dinner tonight in hopes of cheering you up a bit.

You have trouble sleeping that night, and it doesn't get better the next night, or the one after that. Instead, you dream more vividly than ever before, waking up completely exhausted rather than well rested like you should be after six to eight hours of sleep.

You never remember what you dreamed about.

"You didn't have to..." You say quietly, carefully cradeling the fresh herbs.

"Well, if you don't want them-" The man playfully reaches out to take the bundles back, but you move them out of his grasp quickly, accompanied by a bright laugh. "Come on, I can give them to someone else. I bet my mother would appreciate them."

"You are not going to re-gift these, Sasha! They're mine now." You giggle. "I have some flowers you could bring your mother though! I doubt she's going to openly appreciate them, but she might like them. You know, in her own way."

He smiles and takes a slow step forward, his face hovering directly over yours.

"I will bring them to her later. Right now, I just want to focus on you."

A soft smile paints itself onto your lips and you wait for him to lean down and press a kiss against them.

Your laugh echoes loudly through the house when he finally catches up to you, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

"Caught you," He huffs, his head bending down to lean against yours. Your hands move to his, holding onto them tightly as you let yourself sink down onto the soft carpet in your living room, pulling the man down with you. He sits down before you get the chance to, pulling you onto his lap, his lips pressing small kisses onto your shoulder and neck.

You lean back against his chest and soak up the warmth his body gives off. "It's not fair. Your legs are longer than mine. Of course you're faster than me."

"You were the one who suddenly ran off and yelled you'll have to catch me first! when I asked you for a simple goodbye kiss." The man laughs, and you can feel how the amusement and joy you felt before disappear slowly.

"I don't want you to go, Sasha."

You don't like admitting it. It makes you feel weak. A voice in the back of your mind whispers that he would never miss you the way you miss him. It sounds a bit too much like his mother, and you wonder when your inner voice of self-doubt started copying her voice. Since when do you even care what she thinks?

"I know, lapushka... But I'll be back soon, I promise. It'll be fine. You won't even notice I'm gone. Everything will be alright. I would never let anything happen to you, I swear it."

You can't hear anything.

You can't tell if it's actually that quiet or if your body is starting to give up and you lost your hearing. Hopefully, it's just silent. It would be a shame if you could never hear Aleksanders voice again.

But silence isn't good either, you think. There are supposed to be screams around you. If they stopped screaming, that means they're dead. That means you're next.

But you can't be next. Aleksander isn't here yet, and he promised he would be back. He promised, and he never breaks his promises.

He has to come back. He swore he would make sure you would be safe, and while you told him that that's a stupid and impossible thing to promise someone, you did believe him when he said it.

But where is he?

How are you supposed to keep your own promise if he's not here to save you?

You said you wouldn't leave him behind, but you can't keep that if they burn you. You're not strong enough to withstand flames and endless torture. No one is.

It's shocking how bad he is at cooking. He's completely devoid of any talent.

Sure, simple broths and soups are no issue, but as soon as the recipe requires a bit more thought, he is suddenly helpless.

Of course you would never tell him that. Not when he always tries so hard to help you, eyes wide and pleading as he begs you to let him take over some of the work.

"Please. I promise I won't mess up."

He always does, but you love him anyway.

He is a fantastic baker though. Every loaf of bread he works on, every cookie and every cake, turns into something perfect. As soon as sugar is involved, he suddenly becomes the most gifted man in all of Ravka.

Probably because he doesn't want to waste precious sugar, no matter what shape it comes in. Honey, fruit, berries, it doesn't matter. If it's sweet he loves it. That's just how he is.

He has a big smile on his lips when he shows you the freshly baked loaf of bread he worked on that day, already talking about what he's going to pair it with later when it's finally cooled down.

You know you should tell him not to eat so much sugar, to instead pair the bread with some of the cheese you still have in the house, but his smile is such a rare sight nowadays. You can't bring yourself to ruin his good mood.

Your head is resting on his chest, ear pressed against his skin to listen to his resting heartbeat. His face is relaxed.

He looks younger like this. Every time he is awake he looks and acts like the fate of the whole world rests on his shoulders, but when he's stuck in the world of dreams he is completely calm.

He looks like the boy he was never really allowed to be.

You're glad that he managed to find rest relatively quickly considering how outraged he was after his fight with his mother just an hour before, his loud voice booming through the small abandoned house you're hiding in.

"Who does she think she is to keep trying to force her opinions down my throat? I don't care about what she thinks. I get to choose who I want to spend my life with. She has no say in this. She doesn't even know you! You would never leave me, right?"

A quiet mumble leaves his lips, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you closer to him before he rolls to his side and presses his face against the space between your neck and shoulder, his warm breath brushing over your skin and pulling you out of your thoughts.

You try your hardest not to flinch at the sensation, no matter how much it tickles you. Instead you start to brush your hands through his hair, carefully massaging his scalp with your fingernails. His body tenses slightly, just for a few seconds, before he fully relaxes again, letting out a content sigh that sounds suspiciously like your name.

Smiling weakly you press a kiss onto his neck before closing your eyes as well.

"I promise that I won't leave you behind. I'll stay with you until the end of time if you let me. I swear it, Sasha."

Baghra is oddly possessive of her son considering she clearly doesn't like him.

That's the only thing you can think about as you watch her fuss over the boy she has tried so hard to keep hidden from the rest of the small Grisha village.

You want to talk to him. Everyone your age wants to talk to him. There aren't many teens in the village and while you all like each other, you're getting a bit sick of each other as well. Having someone new here to talk and play with could help soften the rising tension.

But that woman... she just shoos you all away as soon as you get too close to her precious son. You can't help but notice that he doesn't seem particularly happy about her behavior either.

He always looks so sad when he watches you and the other play and train, desperate to join you and have some fun instead of helping his mother wash dishes and fix clothes.

Most people would've fought back at some point, would've tried to defend themselves against their mother, but he just sits there and takes it as she scolds him over something stupid again. It's always something stupid, and he just listens to her words with that sad look in his eyes before his gaze begins to wander in hopes of finding something else to focus on, his face flushing from embarrassment.

This time his gaze find you, and even from several metres away you can see how his ears turn red. You try to give him an encouraging smile, but his attention snaps back to his mother before he can see it.

You really need to get him away from her, at least for one night. Maybe you could convince him that you could hunt together or something. He deserves some normal interactions without his mother hovering around him like a bird of prey.

There are screams again, and you're almost glad. Almost.

It's cold now, and it keeps getting colder with all of the blood seeping out of your body, stealing all of the warmth from your limbs and spreading it on the dusty stone floor you're laying on.

You're not sure if its just the exhaustion making you hallucinate or if the shadows are truly moving in your little cell. It would make sense. Aleksander always draws pictures and scenes onto the walls or floor when you can't sleep. Nothing relaxes you more nowadays, except maybe his voice and touch. If your body wants you to stay relaxed as you slowly die, it would probably show you that, right?

You can feel how your powers try to put your body back together. The familiar, almost tingling sensation spreads all over your body, but the blood is still seeping out of you like a small river.

You will die here, you realise. Aleksander hasn't come back and you will die, leaving him behind. He will be on his own again.

You both broke your promise.

Your mind feels like a glass bottle, ready to burst at any moment. You feel fragile and weak, disoriented and somehow... misplaced. You're not where you're supposed to be and you don't know how to get back to your original position.

Where do you belong?

Your physical health deteriorates further as well, alongside your mental health. You're often confused and lost, and your body never stops shaking, forcing you to wear the long, three coloured scarf you used to wear back when you still lived on your families little farm. It's against the uniform guidelines, but no one ever says anything because of how pitiful you look.

Mira compares you to her little siblings a lot, which is always followed by a sad sigh. Both of them are sick, which is why she works at the Little Palace, so far away from home. She sends the money she makes home to make sure they get the medicine they need, and now she takes care of you, giving you easy tasks like repairing small tears in clothes, sowing buttons back on and, of course, bringing the clothes back to their original owners.

You're never asked to go to Baghras hut again though.

"It would just exhaust you more, and you already look like you can barely stand. I don't want you to collapse."

That is Miras' official explanation when you asked why she didn't want you to go, but you're starting to question that reasoning now. If she really wanted to protect you from fainting, why did she send you to bring the General his clothes?

That seems a lot more exciting than being yelled at by the old woman again.

The basket filled with his clothes is also quite heavy and hard to hold with your sweaty palms, a lot harder than the eight hangers that you could simply hug against your body, letting the clothes drape over your crossed arms.

But you really don't want to tell Mira that you don't want to bring him his clothes. It's already embarrassing enough that you are officially no longer allowed to bring clothes to Baghra because of your illness. If you now say you can't bring the General of the Second Army his stupid socks, you might as well resign from your position and go back to your families farm in the middle of nowhere.

He's probably not even in his office. He's a busy man, after all. You will just swoop in, place his laundry basket on the floor next to the door, and take the basket with his dirty laundry back to be cleaned.

A simple job. You're scared for no reason. And even if he is there, he never interacts with the servants. You haven't seen him once since you started working in the Little Palace, and you know several other servants who have been here for longer and have never seen him either.

It'll be fine.

You repeat those words to yourself over and over until you finally see the dark, beautifully carved wooden doors that lead to the Darklings quarters.

The oprichniki standing in front of them eye you suspiciously, but they knock and open the door for you anyways, stepping aside to let you in.

They close the door behind you as soon as you're inside, and your gaze automatically swoops up to the man sitting at the desk at the other end of the room. You planned to just drop the basket off and get the dirty one, but now that you're actually here and in front of the General, you can't bring yourself to move.

There's a tingling sensation at the back of your neck, like your brain is trying to dig up a memory that isn't there anymore. Like you've seen this man before, but you don't remember where.

He's bent over his desk, his dark eyes reading through a thick, several pages long letter, paying you no attention while you shamelessly stare and try to remember where you could've possibly seen him.

He has definitely never been to your village. He is the Darkling.

A sigh leaves his lips after a few agonizing seconds, but he does not look up.

You're starting to get a headache now. The bottle feels like it's going to burst.

"Drop the basket off at the door. The dirty laundry is in my bedroom. Simply go through the door on the right and you'll find it."

You take a step backwards, your back hitting the door as you try your hardest not to drop the basket. There is a name right on the tip of your tongue, demanding you speak it into the silence lingering in the room.

The headache is now a sharp pain, right at the base of your skull. It feels almost like a warning. Like your body is begging you not to say it. To simply get the laundry and leave and never come back. To not let the botte burst.

"Aleksander?"

He looks up, eyes widening when his gaze finds your face. He whispers your name so quietly you almost miss it.

The bottle bursts.

[thera-daydreams]

SCARLET & SHADOW

ᱬ The Darkling x Scarlet Witch!Reader ᱬ

[aleksander morozova x wanda maximoff!reader]

series masterlist & synopsis • thera's masterlist

chapter one.

▪︎ once upon a dream ▪︎

Aleksander had dreams of you long before he even knew you. Maybe it was the stress of this neverending war. Either way, you weren't real anyway... were you?

warnings: the darkling himself is a warning lol, mentions of experimentation, violence, and wallowing in self-regret, no beta we die like wanda

word count: 3.9k

(author's note: yay! finally, after weeks of debating if i should write this, i did. and i can finally sleep in peace.)

Dreams.

He's been having some immensely strange dreams lately. There was always a... woman whose face he could never see. Aleksander had started seeing her in his dreams about a year ago.

It had all been so blurry at first, but he could recall a woman in what seemed to be like a cage encased in clear glass. Her back was turned to where he was, but her hands were covered in unworldly, crimson... vapor... or whatever it was. It was unlike anything he's ever seen before. The woman had been using the red mist to lift wooden blocks into the air. Vaguely, he also heard whispers of men with foreign accents speaking, as if he were beside them but not.

"The dead will be buried so deep their ghosts won't be able to find them."

"And the survivors?"

"The twins." The voice sounded gleeful. Proud. "Sooner or later they will meet the twins."

"It's not a world of spies anymore. Not even a world of heroes. This is the age of miracles, doctor."

Aleksander did not understand the context of these dreams at all. However, he listened, watching the faceless woman make the wooden blocks hover in the air.

"And there is nothing more horrifying... than a miracle."

Snap!

That was his first dream about her. He woke up with a start after that, not feeling like himself the whole day. As if he were in some sort of daze.

The next dream came again weeks later. The Darkling could never see the woman's face. This time, he heard screaming in his dreams. Crying. Devastation. All he saw that night was a burst of crimson energy which had obliterated metal. Moving metal.

The woman was kneeling at the center of some sort of dilapidated chapel, clutching her heart as she sobbed. Then, he woke up again. This time, he felt a bottomless emptiness within him that lasted until the next evening.

"Strange dreams," Aleksander thinks, but still, thinks nothing of it. Perhaps it was his imagination running wild lately due to the stress of the war. The dreams would come and go. Sometimes, there was nothing. Other times, it was the usual nightmares of his... eventful past. Occasionally, the faceless woman would be there in his dreams.

On the first day snow fell that year, the Shadow Summoner sees her in his dreams again. Sitting in a bedroom, silent and pondering. One moment later, she was sitting in what seemed like a metal cell, straitjacketed, unmoving. The more he had these dreams of her, the more curious Aleksander grew about what the woman looked like. These were supposed to be only dreams, yet, it was always her.

Were these truly just dreams?

Eventually, the dreams become nightmares. Not his typical nightmares, either.

He was starting to hear whispers of what nearly seemed like Old Ravkan, but not. He saw the woman surrounded by mirrors and sharp glass, with more blood, death, and gore. Screams of a hundred souls. Fire burning. The smell of ash. The cracking and snapping of bones.

The last that he saw of her at night was in what seemed like a strange, old tomb atop a mountain.

Aleksander saw a stone statue of a woman—a goddess, maybe—with a pointed crown. Seconds later, he saw that very tomb crushed into a landslide. A blizzard. So much snow.

That night, the Black Heretic woke up cold and freezing despite the fireplace burning strong.

After that, the dreams and nightmares of the unknown woman stopped completely. And he'd nearly forgotten about it all. Tired from reading another list of his newly-deceased soldiers up in Ulensk, the man decided to take a stroll in the gardens of his Little Palace.

ᱬᗢᱬ

"No more magic." That was what you had sworn to yourself after the millennia you had spent searching for and destroying every copy of the Darkhold in the Multiverse. It was an incredibly wearisome task to track them all down, but you despised yourself for falling for the temptations of the Book of the Damned.

What have you done?

Not a day passes when you don't ask yourself the question, plagued by the guilt of your sins to the Multiverse. Ultimately, you accepted the fact that as the Scarlet Witch, you were maybe meant to be alone. Fated for eternal solitude until Death finally decides it is time to end your life again.

"I should have stayed dead in the Snap," you chuckle humorlessly. Maybe you would have been happier. But from experience, being snapped was no afterlife. You did not see them. Your parents, Pietro, Vision, Billy, and Tommy. You could only remember the fresh, hot rage you felt at Vision's murder just for the Snap. There was no peace.

Not for you, maybe.

The last world that had a Darkhold was... quite interesting, to say the least. It was not as advanced as your world, Earth-616, but not too primitive, either. It could be likened to the 19th to the 20th century in your original planet, with all its horses, carriages, wooden ships, and steam trains. Very... Industrial Era, you described when you initially arrived. Good enough to survive for, hopefully, the few remaining years of your life.

What was interesting, however, was the specific land you found yourself in. Ravka.

It was something literally out of Czarist Russia, long before the Soviet Union was formed. It led you to thoughts of your late best friend and mentor, Natasha Romanoff... then the World Wars... then Steve Rogers... SHIELD... which led you to spiral into quite unpleasant memories of experiments with HYDRA and consequently, Ultron and Sokovia. Lagos. Westview. Kamar-Taj. Earth-838 and the Illuminati—

You stopped that sickening train of thought quickly.

Still, you found it half-amusing and half-disappointing that even universes away, war and politics were unavoidable. Ravka appeared to not be on very good terms with its northern and southern neighbors, Fjerda and Shu Han, respectively. (The Shu reminded you of China and Mongolia. You wondered if they had Khans there, too. Fjerda, on the other hand, reminded you of Thor, Valkyrie, and a certain God of Mischief.)

Now, one of the biggest reasons why Ravka was at war with Fjerda and Shu Han? People called Grisha, you quickly learned. Kind of like the Enhanced or the Mutants, in your world and other worlds. It was just that they could mainly be divided into different orders and classifications and were usually found serving the Second Army.

Either way, it did not make much of a difference to you. You had met a living tree and a talking raccoon in the fight against Thanos so... yes, not the strangest thing you'd seen in the universe. You didn't really care, but you did feel some empathy for the Grisha oppressed by the otkazat'sya. Ordinary humans.

You knew all too well what it felt like to be different in a world full of regular people.

Unfortunately, Ravka itself was also at civil war between its East and West because of a border practically made of darkness. The Shadow Fold, supposedly created four hundred years ago by a crazy Shadow Summoner titled the Black Heretic. Many prayed for a mythical Sun Summoner to come save them from their plights.

You internally scoffed. You yourself were a myth, the presaged Harbinger of Chaos. The Scarlet Witch, destined to rule or annihilate the cosmos. Maybe you already ruined it. You just hoped that if the Sun Summoner were real, they would be a true saint and do their "destined" good deed.

And a small part of you hoped that they, too, would either escape or fulfill their prophecy. Maybe live a happy life, unlike you did. No one ever thinks that myths and legends could be living, breathing, feeling people, too.

ᱬᗢᱬ

Cut off from your thoughts by two young boys bumping into you, the basket of apples you were holding tumbles to the ground. You were about to scold them when you saw the state they were in.

One of the boys was holding a toddler. A freaking toddler.

All three of them dressed in rags, covered in soot and dirt. Thin and malnourished, nearly shivering from the autumn cold. Your heart almost broke when you saw the small, blonde girl in their arms try to reach out for the fallen apples on the ground.

"Sorry, lady!" The boys shout, turning on their heels to keep running.

"Wait!" You yell after them. "Do you want an apple?!"

That made the boys stop in their tracks. You pick up the apples and carefully place them back in the woven basket you were carrying. They seemed apprehensive on trusting you, so it was you who decided to make the first move.

"Here. Have the entire basket. You kids need it more than I do."

One of the boys, a pale boy with bright blue eyes and curly black hair past his shoulders, hesitantly reaches out to take the basket you were offering. "Thank you... lady..." he mumbles. The other boy holding the girl—looking nearly the opposite of his friend—reassured the fussy toddler in his arms. This boy was tanner, looking as if his hair were kissed by fire itself; eyes the shade of a vibrant forest.

"What are your names?" you gently asked. They share a look, silently communicating, then nod.

"... Henrik," the blue-eyed boy answers quietly, inspecting the basket of apples, still torn on thinking if this was a trick or a rare act of kindness. He seemed more conservative than his friend, who answered in a louder voice.

"I'm Dmitri, lady!" He was more eager to talk after realizing you were no threat to them. He gestures to the tiny girl in his arms, no older than three. "And this is baby Katyusha."

Your heart nearly broke seeing the sleepy toddler carried around by her... brother? You look around. It was getting dark. "Where are your homes? Your parents? It's late for children like you to be out in the evening."

"It's just us, lady," Henrik answers, as if it were normal to not have an adult accompanying them.

You frowned deeper. "Why were you guys running?"

At my question, the boys grow concerned. "Because..." Dmitri begins, before Henrik shushes him. You shake your head.

"No, it's okay. What is it?" You try to encourage.

"The three of us... we are Grisha..." Dmitri whispers the last word, green eyes filled with guilt and fear. Your eyes widened. Including the toddler they were holding? "The townspeople aren't exactly welcoming to our kind, lady. Except you. Weirdly enough."

Henrik, the quiet one with blue eyes, sighs. "I'm a Tidemaker. I think. Dmitri here can control some fire, so Inferni, if I'm right. Maybe that's why his hair is that red..."

Dmitri snorts. "Whatever."

You almost stammer as you ask, "And Katyusha there?"

"... We think she's a Heartrender. When... she gets angry or hungry or fussy... sometimes, we feel like we can't breathe, whenever she holds us," Henrik explains, gazing at the tiny little girl, who looked ever innocent and adorable.

"Where are your parents?" you ask carefully. You prayed to the gods, the saints, and the fates that these children had grown-ups to look after them. Unlikely, though, based on how they looked.

Dmitri shook his head, "My mom worked at a brothel but died from tuberculosis. I then lived on the streets after that. Henrik was left on somebody's doorstep. And Katyusha... we found her in a garbage can. The three of us used to live together in a hut east of the chapel but... um, the storm last week..." He trailed off.

Three young Grisha orphans.

No family. No shelter. No food. You stared at the three of them, voices inside you urging you to be on your way and avoid getting attached to these orphans. To avoid getting attached to people ever again.

But it was too late. You already saw yourself in them.

It was like you and Pietro, once upon a time, long ago.

Sighing, you hold out your arms. You knew you might regret this in the future.

"Give me the little girl. And you boys, follow me," you instruct. They give you questioning looks.

"Huh?"

"You're all coming home with me. To bathe and eat and sleep without fear of being hunted down," you disclose, waiting for Dmitri to hand over Katyusha. The boy was too thin to be carrying around the toddler. "I live in the forest."

"We don't know you, lady," Henrik protests warily, but grips the basket of apples you'd given even tighter. "What if you trick us? Or hurt us?"

"... My name is Wanda. Wanda Maximoff." You hum, smiling genuinely at them. "Now you know me. And from now on, I promise to protect you. You can eat the apples while we walk."

"..."

"It's not poisoned, don't worry." You took a bite out of one, then tossed it to Dmitri. "See?"

ᱬᗢᱬ

Not long after, you had, in fact, confirmed with your very eyes that the three orphans you'd taken in were Grisha. Undeniably so. Dmitri, the eight-year-old redhead, was an Inferni—true to his appearance and loud personality. Henrik, the introverted seven-year-old with jet black curls and icy blue eyes, was a Tidemaker—as he mentioned before.

You wondered what age their abilities began to manifest.

Lastly, two-year-old Katyusha was indeed a... well, baby Heartrender. You learned that the hard way when you tried to leave her alone for a minute to get her some warm milk in the kitchen. The air was knocked out of your lungs for a few brief seconds as she wailed from separation anxiety, gripping your arm like a lifeline.

It nearly shocked you that at such an age, she could do such feats just by touching you.

A year into sheltering and caring for these children as if they were your own, you came to the decision that it would be best if they were not with you—AKA former multiversal threat and retired but still dangerous witch living as a hermit in the woods of Tsibeya.

Which was near Chernast.

And also the Fjerdan border.

That meant a significantly high possibility of drüskelle sighting or finding the kids, even if you did last use your magic to make sure your little cabin would be safe and sound and completely undetectable to any intruders.

The children deserved a better future than staying with someone like you—a Darkhold-reading creature of evil who nearly stole a teenage girl's multiverse-traveling powers and also possessed her alternate self's body to replace her as a mom to her kids.

Die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Were you even ever a hero in the first place?

Plus, you had no idea how Grisha powers really worked.

And as much as you wanted to just fly the kids off to their best chance at a good future in Ravka... or maybe use a teleportation spell, you'd strictly sworn off your Chaos Magic for a good while now. You also didn't want to have to manipulate the memories of the three kids—especially little Katyusha—into making them believe in a fake journey or forgetting you entirely.

So, a good old-fashioned trip to the Little Palace it was.

ᱬᗢᱬ

The trip went well. Sort of. After a few days of painstakingly traveling on foot, you'd finally arrived in Os Alta in one piece.

And so did Dmitri, Henrik, and Katyusha. But there was a slight issue.

"I still can't believe you knocked out that drüskelle by yourself, Aunt Wanda!" Dmitri continues to gush excitedly—as he had for days now ever since the encounter with a lone drüskelle who tried to attack all of you. And yes, the boys had taken to referring to you as Aunt Wanda.

Which was better, somehow. You don't think you'd be able to handle being referred to as... well... that word after what happened with Billy and Tommy.

The problem was little Katyusha who practically imprinted on you as her mother. Her first words—quite late at the age of two—were mama. Directed to you. No one knew that you cried that night in your room.

"You did not even see me do anything, Dmitri. Didn't I tell you to close your eyes?" you sighed, adjusting the sleeping Katyusha in your arms.

"I swear I closed them! But one moment, he was coming towards us then the next, thud! When I open my eyes, he's on the ground in front of you? How'd you do it, Aunty?!" he excitedly squeals.

"Just a very well-timed punch," you reply carefully. A well-timed punch that may or may not have been enhanced with your psionic energy. It still irked you that you had to use your... abilities again. Even if it was not your Chaos Magic.

Still, you would never hesitate to protect this trio. Not after the year you'd grown to love them.

This time, it was soft-spoken Henrik who asked, "What about those two Grisha slavers who tried taking us away in the middle of the night?"

Okay. Perhaps the trip didn't go that smoothly. And that did not pair well with young children who were at the age of being extremely curious about everything in the world.

"Bribed them with some money," you lied. More like using your telepathic powers to manipulate their minds into leaving your traveling group alone.

"... You didn't need to give them your gold and silver for us, Aunt Wanda," Henrik murmurs guiltily. Your steps stopped. Frowning as you crouch down to the boys' level, you ensured Katyusha's head was still supported while you spoke.

"Hey. Boys, listen to me." You wait until they make eye contact. "When I first took you in, I promised that I would protect you. And I would do everything in my power to do that, okay?"

"Aunty, I'm not sure I want to go to the Little Palace," Henrik shares regretfully. Behind him, Dmitri goes quiet, too, having second thoughts as well.

Your brows furrowed as you smile sadly. "But you must. You will be with your kin. The Grisha there can teach you to grow and hone your powers. I cannot as I am only otkazat'sya. Your future lies in the Little Palace." You gaze fondly at the sleeping child in your arms. "Your sister's future lies there, too."

Henrik and Dmitri share a look as you urge them to continue walking. Just a couple more minutes and you would arrive at the gates of the Little Palace. When you were near, that's when you stop.

"Remember what we talked about during the trip? What you have to do when you get to the gates?" You remind them.

The boys nod. You slowly unwrap the cloth on your torso which was carrying tiny, two-year-old Katyusha. Henrik takes her. She momentarily fusses in her sleep, making all of you freeze, but her breathing steadies.

"Tell the oprichniki at the gates that we are Grisha seeking refuge in the Little Palace. Orphans from a small town in Tsibeya," Dmitri repeats the script you guys practiced while traveling.

"And say that we went along with a traveling hunting group until we got to Os Alta, before we journeyed to the Little Palace alone," Henrik adds.

You smile at them, embracing them tightly. "Good. Good. Now off you go. Before it gets dark."

"Will you visit us?" Dmitri asks eagerly. You hum in thought.

"Perhaps. I'll try, you two. But it could be years until I see you all again. You might be all grown up the next time we see each other," you answer him honestly. You weren't sure if the Little Palace allowed visitors to the Grisha kids like it was a daycare.

They nod, disappointed, but slowly go. You stand up from where you were crouched, a familiar feeling of these children slipping through your fingers, too. The same way your twin sons did, once.

Then, Henrik paused, turning around. "Aunty?" he calls.

"Yes, Henrik?" You tilt your head curiously.

"Thank you for being our mom!" the usually quiet boy shouts, warming your heart. It has only been a year since you took them off the streets and adopted them, but you were already attached.

Too attached.

Which never ended well for you or the other person, based on experience.

You watch them as they run to the path leading to the gates of the Little Palace. Then, you lurk for a few more minutes to ensure that they really do manage to enter the Little Palace.

When the oprichniki allow them in, a Grisha appearing and escorting Henrik, Dmitri, and little Katyusha, you breathe a sigh of relief. You were about to leave when—

"What do you mean he quit to become a gardener at the Grand Palace?!" a voice yells from a nearby corner.

"The Queen adored his flower arrangements and offered a larger pay!" another countered defensively. "Hell, I'd take up the offer, too!"

You pause, head turning to listen in more on the conversation.

"He's one of the only gardeners at the Little Palace who could do his job right, dammit!"

Looks like an interesting job opening.

It was a bad idea. A terrible idea, even. You should just go back to your cabin in the woods, living the remainder of your life in solitude. The children would be fine in the Little Palace, amongst their other fellow Grisha.

That was what the rational side of you said. But you always did have a tendency to be swept away by your emotions.

Survival rates also weren't that pleasant when Grisha children would be obligated to serve in the Second Army.

Listening to the arguing men, perhaps this is where your green thumb could step in.

You really should have listened to your instincts.

Just three months later, you start to feel a set of curious eyes watching you as you crouched and plucked stubborn, overgrown weeds from the dirt.

Your insides were on overdrive, sending off alarm bells. You worked in the secluded portions of the Little Palace garden, the ones harder to maintain daily, so no one usually came where you were stationed. Pausing, you slowly turn around to see obsidian eyes—so, so dark you couldn't distinguish the pupil from the iris, akin to a bottomless pit of starless night.

And you freeze.

The Black General of Ravka was right behind you.

Snapping out of your stupor, you hastily stand and bow.

"Moi soverenyi," you address him politely, avoiding his eyes. Of all people—of all Grisha to notice you—it was the infamous Shadow Summoner himself.

General Kirigan of the Second Army.

You've only heard stories about him since you arrived in this world. Ruthless. Powerful. A Shadow Summoner. The strongest Grisha currently alive. Descendant of the Black Heretic. And you never even thought you'd be speaking to him face-to-face ever.

Why would you? You weren't even from this world.

"Huh. I was not made aware we had a new gardener," he muses out loud, examining you from head-to-toe, dressed in light garbs similar to the other servants, only modified for greater mobility.

You seemed awfully familiar to him. He just couldn't place his finger on it.

Meanwhile, you tried your best to seem like any other unassuming otkazat'sya servant. It was tempting to just read his thoughts given how he was scrutinizing you but no, you resisted.

"What's your name, girl?" General Kirigan asks. And you inwardly cuss—so much for a low profile—yet your face was perfectly neutral.

"Wanda, sir."

"Surname?" He raises one fine brow.

"... Maximoff, sir."

"Wanda Maximoff." He combines the two names. The dark-haired man stares longer. It took all your willpower not to squirm and be suspicious. Then, he nods and continues on his way.

The moment he was out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You were the all-powerful Scarlet Witch. Or, rather, formerly the Scarlet Witch.

So why did this man unnerve you the way he did just now?

next chapter

Hearts, reblogs, comments, interactions, and constructive criticism are very much appreciated! If you wanna be tagged in the upcoming chapters, comment here or on the series masterlist post.

Thanks! ♡

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

let me be yours

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

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

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masterlist | join my taglist

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

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

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

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[hopingforrainydays]

birth of the bone-breaker | general kirigan

pairing: general kirigan x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of blood and gore

word count: 2.3k

summary: soft times with the darkling as he comforts a traumatized grisha; in other words, a story in which a healer becomes something else and finds solace in the shadow summoner

author’s note: so so excited for shadow and bone season two. this one has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, and i’m happy to finally share it with y’all!

requests are open!

--

You were dragged through the palace gates at Os Alta, your limp form tugged forward--and held up--by the red-clad Grisha on either side of you. You barely registered their forceful motions, keeping your chin tucked into your chest. It was sodden with dirt, blood, and what could only be assumed to be some other form of bodily matter. But that wasn’t a bother. You barely registered that either.

It had been a long enough journey, but you had not fought the Grisha hauling you by horse, carriage, and on foot. You weren’t a fighter by nature, and even so, any of the adrenaline that flowed through your veins had ebbed away. Besides, you deserved whatever they had planned for you. The iron grip of the Corporalniks prevented any attempt of a struggle. The black detailing of their keftas marked them as Heartrenders; they could take the air from your lungs or crush your heart in a matter of moments.

But you could do the same, couldn’t you?

The shadow of the Little Palace loomed over you, and yet your gaze did not falter from its focus on your muddied feet. It was the only thing grounding you to this moment, no matter how you wished to glance upon the palace one last time. Once inside, you found small purchase on the smooth marble floors, the tips of your toes tripping at the quick pace set by your companions. A part you, deep inside, was apologetic of the mess you were bound to leave behind: muddy, bloodied footprints.

It wouldn’t be your first mess.

The First Army soldiers flanking the grounds had kept their hands on the trigger of their rifles and any Grisha that now flock through the halls followed your every movement, hands clasped in front of them. The dark forms of the oprichniki walked ahead, leading you to your doom. A strategic hold on your arms forced your hands to be kept apart.

You understood, in part, their caution. It still pained you. The presumption that the Grisha--your family--looked at you as though you were a monster clogged your eyes with tears.

Saints, you deserved whatever awaited you.

The Grisha soldiers brought you to the end of the hall. Ornate double-doors pushed open, and you were marched to the center of the large room. The bruising hold on your biceps ceased, causing you to fall to the ground in an ungraceful heap. You caught yourself against the ground, eyes trained on your bloodied fingertips. Your fingers folded into tight fists, the jagged edge of your fingernails cutting into your palms. You winced at the throbbing pain, but dug your fingertips further into the soft flesh. In the wild panic that rose in your throat, in the unsurety of the future, and in the potential meeting of your gruesome fate, you found that it was the one thing that reassured you.

“What is this?” The voice came from in front of you. It was cold and calculating, and one that you faintly recognized from your years spent training at the Little palace. General Kirigan.

“Forgive us, moi soverennyi. It’s a matter of grave importance,” said one of the Heartrenders. From what you could tell, they were stood not far behind you. Ready, in case you were to attack. 

There was a shuffle of feet behind you. One of the Grisha, a Squaller, stepped forward. Her voice cracked as she said, “We were meant to deliver a few supplies to the Second Army regiment posted outside Chernast. When we arrived, they were–” she paused, taking in a shaky breath. She whispered, more to herself than anyone else, “Saints, they were all dead.”

“Except for them,” the other Heartrender spat. There was a sharp tug to your hair, yanking your head back. You let out a yelp, wild eyes meeting the cool stare of your general. “We found this one near the Fjerdan border, not far from the rest.”

“Release her.”

“General, you should know it was a massacre.”

“Release her.”

The hand in your hair released. Your head slumped forward, a throbbing pain forming at the back. General Kirigan stepped toward you, his finger reaching out to lift your chin. You flinched. He hesitated, the finger hanging in the air for a moment before retracting entirely. Instead, he crouched, his eyes now level with your own.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice softer now than when he spoke to his soldiers.

“Our best guess is drüskelle-”

“I wasn’t asking you,” the general snapped at the Heartrender. He turned his attention back to you, waiting patiently for your response.

You shook your head back and forth, frantic. The memories of the attack had plagued your mind throughout your journey from Chernast to Os Alta, but you were always quick to shove them away. You didn’t want to remember.

The general’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His dark eyes roamed your indiscernible features, watching as your eyes darted to look at the Grisha beside you. With a frown, he rose to his feet.

“Leave us.”

One of the Corporalniks made a noise of disagreement, but with one look from their general, quieted. The remaining Grisha left the room in slow, hesitant movements, as if they thought General Kirigan would change his mind. With a final bow, the Squaller closed the door behind her.

There was a tense silence as you remained on the floor and the general leant back against the round table. You were afraid to move, though most of the stress in your muscles had eased at the near-isolation.

“Can you stand on your own?”

You didn’t respond.

“Are you injured? I’ll send for a Healer.”

“No,” you were quick to dismiss the idea. The voice that left you did not feel like your own; it was rough as sandpaper, and a lot louder than you intended. Noticing the general’s taken-aback-expression, you were quick to whisper an explanation. “The blood isn’t mine.”

With a sigh, he moved towards you. He reached his hand out in front of you, mindful to keep his movements slow and stay a respectful distance away. You eyed his hand before placing your palm into his own.

He turned it over, brushing his thumb over the deep crescent marks left by your fingernails. A trail of blood ran from them down to your wrist. The look he gave you had your face burning in childish embarrassment, as if you were getting scolded by a parent.

“You’ll visit the infirmary later. I’ll have a servant come to clean you up, lest you’re hiding anymore injuries.”

You wanted to scoff at his choice of words. A small mark of self-mutilation was hardly an injury, and would never compare to the harm you brought to those in Chernast. Instead, you settled on a frown. He hoisted you to your feet and set you straight. As he moved to leave, you caught his arm.

“Wait,” you said. He looked at you expectantly, and you found yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure where you were going with this, but the idea of being left alone terrified you. The idea of being left alone with one of the servants terrified you even more. You wanted to believe it was because of the looks the other Grisha had given you upon your arrival--distrust, discomfort, and horror. You would never admit it, but you knew the true reason: you weren’t afraid of what they’d do to you, but of what you’d do to them. “Stay.”

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat, pulling away from the powerful man. It was foolish, you were foolish. You leaned against the table, propping yourself up with both arms. The strength it took to hold yourself up became too much, though, and your arms trembled with exertion. 

General Kirigan reached out to catch you, balancing your weight on his forearms. He didn’t say anything, didn’t react to your request, or reprimand you for being so forward. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your back, supporting a majority of your weight as you leaned into his side.

He mumbled encouragements as he led you to a side room, resting you against the cool surface of a sink. You observed the new environment, the realization that he had brought you into his washroom dawning on you. The room was large enough, with a tub seated in the center. General Kirigan was beside it, turning the handle to allow water to pour from the faucet. As the tub filled to a level of his liking, he set out a variety of soaps and sponges off to a table on the side.

He took a few tentative steps in your direction, as though he were approaching a wild animal. Maybe he was. He gestured to the door you had entered through. “I’ll be in the other room.”

With a flustered expression, he shut the door behind him. It took you a while to get the motivation to move, to make any progress toward the bath. The ruined garments decorating your body would not budge under your trembling fingertips, so you eased into the tub fully-clothed. The water was scorching hot against the exposed parts of skin, but as you adjusted, you found that you preferred it. The bitter cold of the Fjerdan border still bit into your skin, so you welcomed the hot pain.

Cold. Chernast. Pain. Burn. The connection formed before you could stop it, and you were plagued by the memories from days before. You whimpered, curling into a fetal position. You remembered your weak attempts at healing the fatal injuries that littered the bodies of your fallen friends; the Fjerdan warriors charging you, axes raised to cut you down; the burning rage as your hands moved in ways they never had before; Fjerdan blood mixing with Grisha as it splattered into the snow.

The rap of knuckles against the door startled you out of your trance. The general’s voice sounded from the other side, “Is it okay to come in?”

You froze. Had it really been that long?

The door creaked open. He stepped into the room, his eyes finding yours. He let out an exasperated sigh at your state: curled in the tub, clothed, the water barely warm, and skin still dirty. His figure disappeared into the other room, bringing back with him a wooden chair.

He took a seat by the tub, reaching forward. His hands rested on your shoulders, smoothing over the fabric as his fingers moved to work at the buttons of your ruined kefta. The general was close enough now for you to smell him. A whirl of musk and spice filtered through your nose. You inhaled deeply, the scent strangely calming you.

The rest of your layers were stripped from your skin, and he folded the garments--Saints know why; they were beyond the help of any Fabrickator. You were left in a loose shirt and pants. The muck and grime caking your skin itched, and it took everything in you not to scrape it off. Your fingernails dug into the fat of your calves, jabbing through the thin material of your pants. You curled further into yourself, head rested against your knees. The pain brought you to the present, and it was all you could do to focus on that.

“What did this to you?” the general asked, rolling up his sleeves. He rubbed a bar of soap against a damp towel until the suds grew to his liking. He pressed the cloth to the skin of your hands, gently rubbing away the grime.

It was a different way of asking what happened, with an implication that you were not the cause. If only he knew that you were. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“You’re a Heartrender, no? You must remember the attack.”

“I’m a Healer.”

The confession stalled his movements. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he continued his work in the silence that followed.

“I do,” you whispered, after a moment. “I do remember.”

Kirigan didn’t say anything. He glared at the bruises marking your arms from the Heartrenders’ grip.

“Fjerdan warriors attacked in the night. We never saw them coming. There was so much blood, so many bodies.”

“But you weren’t one of them.”

“No. I was trying to help those still alive. Heal them, if I could. Saints, at that point I was saving them just for them to die again.” You swallowed, thick and teary-eyed. “One of them found me, in the midst of it all. He pinned me to the ground. I saw the axe raise. And I just…panicked.”

By now, Kirigan had moved to cleaning your face. He dabbed carefully at your forehead.

“My hands were on his chest, and I felt every bone in his body break.”

You were disgusted with yourself. You were a Healer, not a Heartrender. It was your chosen specialization because you could not stand the thought of causing another person pain–you wanted to help. And yet here you were, one massacre later.

His finger smoothed the crease of your brows. “That sounds like self defense to me.”

“It could’ve been. If I hadn’t hunted down every warrior after that.” He gestured for you to stand. A fluffy towel wrapped around your shoulders, soaking in the sopping wet material of your clothes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asked as you stepped from the tub.

“Taking care of me.”

“Someone needed to.”

“You didn’t have to.”

A pregnant pause. You thought you may have overstepped or offended him. He pulled you close by the towel on your shoulders, fingers gripping the sides of your jaw. His thumb rubbed against your cheek. “I did. I know what it’s like to feel like the monster.”

“General–”

“Kirigan. Just Kirigan.”

“Kirigan.” You smiled, if only a small one, for the first time in weeks. “Thank you.”

--

buy me a coffee

[littlelordfuckler0y]

Ben barnes x fem!actress reader Instagram au

context: reader is good friends w Freddie

yourinstagram Freddie’s cooler friends from s&b🤭

@Jessie_mei_li Said the coolest person in town

@Yourinstagram I LOVE YOU

@Y/nfan1 THIS IS SO CUTE I CANNOT

@Y/nfan2 Y/n cameo in shadow and bone when??

@Amitasuman When do we get to see you again😣

@Yourinstagram soon I hope :/

@Jackwolfe Funny because we know you as Freddie’s cool acting school friend

@Fabienfrankel *coughs in cool friend from the dragon show*

benbarnes Sadly I did not get any spoilers for house of the dragon 💔

tagged yourinstagram

@Kittheyounger That is after 92 attempts and a blank NDA contract

@Benbarnes We all have our vices don’t we

@Yourinstagram I cannot be HBO’s weakest link I’m sorry😔😔

@benfan1 HES SO UNSERIOUS LMAO

@Y/nfan1 fan behaviour like he should YASSSS

@Freddiecarter Y/n would fold over a chocolate bar just saying

@Yourinstagram no I would not????

@Oliviacooke y/n!!!! Our strongest soldier when it comes to spoilers! (She would in fact fold over a chocolate bar)

@Freddiecarter See @Yourinstagram

yourusername said he knew a spot

@Jessie_mei_li is it really worth 4 extra miles?

@yourusrname I mean😭😭

@Freddiecarter Great! I can barely feel my legs now!

@benfan1 THEYRE SO CUTE OML

@Benbarnes Why thank you :)

@Benfan2 Are they dating??

@Y/nfan1 the photos seem from a camping trip Freddie posted about but who knows

@Benfan2 they’d look so good together tho

@Jackwolfe what a day!

daniellegalligan_ dumb and dumber

tagged: yourusername benbarnes

@Amitasuman are we surprised

@Y/nfan1 THEYRE SO FRICKING CUTE

@benfan1 DANIELLE FEEDING US CRUMBS YES

@yourusrname the caption…can’t even do goodwill these days 😔

@Freddiecarter could’ve just walked across mother teresa

@Benbarnes in her defence we didn’t know there was a door there

@Callahan.skogman @benbarnes how else do you think people would get in the place…at all?

@Kittheyounger dumb and dumber indeed

[pinkwinesupernovas]

⁀➴ dark paradise

⌞ general kirigan x fem! healer reader ⌝

summary : The reader has been instructed by the king to help tend to general Kirigan's wounds after his long battle from Fjerda. With such close proximity might something ignite? perhaps the beginning of a flame. word count : 2.4k a/n : Hello! this is my first ever oneshot on tumblr, i do realize this is quite short. Do let me know if you like it or if there's any thing else you'd like to see written! This fic was definitely inspired by the song 'dark paradise' by lana del ray. It means the absolute world to me that you're reading this <3

" there's no remedy for memory , your face is like a melody " 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ “May I go in?”- you ask patiently waiting outside the general’s chambers. After the long battle with the Fjerdans, you were specifically instructed by the king to aid the general upon his return. Being a healer wasn’t necessarily the best but you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter in your chest at the prospect of being so close to the general.

One of the guards standing outside the general’s door nods in acknowledgement of your presence, and then moves out of the way so you can step inside the general's chambers. The general was not warned that you were coming, so he looks up curiously with his dark eyes fixated on you with a piercing stare.

“I’m here to help”- you start nervously 

General Kirigan leans back and crosses his arms. He seems less brooding than he was a few moments ago as he watches you step into the room. His gaze is steady and his look is intense, but there is a hint of something else in his expression that you have not yet been able to pinpoint.

“I heard our army won the war” You make your way to the general walking past the table onto where he stood. You raised your eyebrows when you saw the maps splayed on the table. “Yet you seem to be plotting on another”- you say studying the maps. 

General Kirigan nods his head as you study the maps on the table. "Indeed we have succeeded in our mission to liberate Fjerda, yet there is something troubling me," he pauses for a moment and glances over at you with a look of contemplation. "You are quite observant, Y/N. I must admit it has been a while since someone has caught an anomaly so quickly." I smile shyly in response, focusing my attention on him. “The king sent me to help you with your battle scars” 

General Kirigan leans forward slightly and stares into your eyes intently. They meet yours for a long moment without him blinking and then he finally nods. “I see. The king sent you to ease my injuries. Quite thoughtful of him don’t you think?”- he says proceeding to remove his kefta. 

I look away pretending to study my surroundings as he undoes his shirt. “Of course”- I reply softly, fidgeting with the hem of my dress nervously. 

“I must say I’m quite pleased you accepted to offer your help Y/N” You turn around and notice the general seated on his arm chair. He casually leans back making himself comfortable. Immediately your eyes fixate on his body.  You take in the way his pale chest glistens under the chandelier lights. His chest rises and falls with every breath and all of a sudden you’re unable to form words. The heat seems to have risen in the room.

You seat yourself next to him and subtly ask for permission to inspect his arm. “Tell me about the war”- you say softly, attempting to make conversation just so you could keep your mind distracted from any foolish thoughts. He simply looks at you intently and nods. 

“We grisha are difficult to eradicate” You frown as you gently run your hands over his scars tracing his arms to his shoulders. “Though they put up quite a show”- He answers smiling in amusement. 

You hum in response as your mind is preoccupied in healing him. You were too fixated on what you were doing to realise the general’s gaze was upon you the entire time. You work your way to his muscular torso. He sucks in a sharp breath when your hand lingers over his chest. You snap out of your trance and look at him in guilt “Does that hurt?”

The general's breathing grows heavy and he swallows tightly as your touch lingers on his chest. When you ask if he feels pain, the general shakes his head slightly. "It does not pain me." He closes his eyes and tilts his head slightly. The general glances down at his torso to see where your hands are resting, but instead notices that you are looking at him. He smiles softly. 

You blush profusely under his gaze and nod continuing your work. "You're very brave"- you say sitting up inspecting his body for any more wounds. 

The general is quiet for a moment as he watches you inspect his body for any more wounds. His breathing is slow and steady, and his eyes seem to be gazing right through you. He is clearly enjoying your attention.

Finally, he speaks up, but you cannot help but notice that his voice is still deep and dark in tone. “Brave?” The general glances down at the scar on his torso and back up to you. “I don’t really think of myself as brave. I simply have the best interests of Ravka in my mind. It’s my honour to serve the kingdom” 

You smile amused. "Not a lot of people are brave enough to lead a battle" Your eyes lock with his and you quickly look away "There is a cut on your face, may I?"- You ask politely 

The general nods his head slightly as he hears your question. “You may.” His eyes follow your hands as they reach towards his face, and they meet yours for a moment when your hands make contact with his skin. The general’s features remain stoic as you begin to treat his cut and your fingers move across his face. His heartbeat quickens. 

His hand envelops yours that’s on his face. “Y/N”- he starts leaning in gently. “Thank you for your help” He hastily stands up and you’re taken aback. His face is expressionless and you’re unable to comprehend what had just happened. 

You clear your throat and nod unable to meet his eyes. “I must return to my chambers, I’ll be sure to send the king your regards”- you said quickly, turning away clearly hurt. 

Just as you take a step he grabs your hand. “Wait” You turn around sighing only to see him staring longingly at you. He gently tugs on your hand and pulls you closer until your faces are inches apart. 

“General I-”

“Call me Aleksander”- he replies sternly 

As you’re about to say something he places his finger upon your mouth. “Shh”- he whispers, his breath heavy on your neck.  Your eyes flutter close and you lean in. The general leans forward towards you and his lips meet yours in a slow and heated kiss. He slowly slides his arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him, your bodies now pressed tightly against each other. His lips linger on yours before he pulls away and looks directly into your eyes.

You blink as if in a trance and a smile forms on your face. The general seems overwhelmed by your smile and he looks at you for a long moment without saying a word. He looks as if he is trying to find the right thing to say.

Finally, he clears his throat and looks away. His face is slightly red and he speaks quietly.

“I hope to see you again Y/N”

“I hope so too”- You reply and make your way out. Your cheeks are still tinted red and there are countless thoughts in your mind. You linger for a moment more outside the door and walk away smiling. 

[kasagia]

I love you... I am sorry

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader Summary: According to Baghra, there is only one person who can save her son. You—his first love and a witch who can control the powers of the Darkling. Aleksander becomes a prisoner of the Sun Summoner and King Nikolai, and you are to control and watch over him as he works for his redemption... but does he have the strength and will to continue fighting? And while everyone is busy saving Ravka from Fjerda and Shu Han, you're busy saving Aleksander from himself. Even though he doesn't want you around anymore... Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"I don't like this," Nikolai grumbles as he, Baghra, and Alina walk deeper into the forest near Ulensk. "Wouldn't it be easier for us to just kill him?"

Alina tenses as she hears the howling of wolves nearby. She weakens her ball of light slightly and instinctively approaches Baghr. Ever since they destroyed the fold, Fjerda and Shu Han have become... more daring in their travels near the border. Something Aleksander had warned her about. She didn't want to risk running into one of the Fjerdan's stray troops.

"We are not like him. He deserves one last chance before we get rid of him." Nikolai sighs and nods. They walk in silence for a few more minutes until they finally reach a small clearing. Baghra stands, staring at one spot.

"Shine more brightly." She orders Alina and kneels down.

Baghra takes out a dagger and cuts her hand. She smears her blood across the leaves, mumbling words under her breath in old Ravkan. Alina and Nikolai look at each other uncertainly when suddenly the branches of the surrounding trees grow. They connect with each other, creating an impenetrable wall around the three of them. Nikolai reaches for his sword, and Alina instinctively reaches into her pocket for her amplifier. The fog thickens around them and the ground shakes slightly as a small wooden hut rises from beneath it.

"I'll go first." Baghra announces and stands up.

"No. We're all going together."

"She's probably not a big fan of yours, Sankta Alina." Baghra sneers, sending the girl a mocking look. "I better get her ready for you."

Alina stubbornly follows Baghra, ignoring her words and disapproving look. Nikolai reluctantly joins the two women, and so the three of them cross the threshold of the small hut.

They enter a living room full of bookshelves and various crystals. A fire burns in the fireplace, and the air smells of lavender from the incense burning on a table covered with various pots, magnifying glasses, and metal tools. The candles burn a little brighter when the door behind them suddenly closes with a loud bang.

"Millennium, and you haven't learnt to knock? Besides, I thought you hated draught." Baghra rolls her eyes at your mocking voice.

You push past the uninvited guests and sit down at the table. You sip your tea and throw the crystal into the cauldron, then set it over the fire burning in your fireplace.

"You probably know what my son has been up to lately?"

"Aleksander has always been an ambitious man. I thought we were all aware of that fact." Alina feels an unpleasant pang in her chest when you use the Darkling's true name when you refer to him. She shakes her head, trying to dispel the unwanted feelings.

"You call the creation and expansion of the fold ambitious?" Alina asks you, irritated. Baghra elbows her in the ribs, but she ignores it completely, giving you a stern, appraising look.

"And you probably think that destroying it was ambitious, right, little sunbeam?" You mock her without even looking at her. Alina doesn't like it at all.

"That was the right thing to do. That was needed to be done."

"Anything that helps you sleep better at night, sunshine. But you realise that now the Fjerdans and the rest will be entering Ravka as if it were their own land, right? If you think the fold was a problem for Grisha, just wait until all the kidnapping, rape, and experimentation on your people begins. I'd love to see what desperate move you will make next when you realise that your problems are only beginning, oh holy Sankta Alina of the Fold."

"I'm not here to discuss Ravka's future with you."

"You shouldn't be here at all." You state, and yawn boredly. You go to the fireplace and take your pot. You put it on the table and stir the dissolved crystal. You prepare a form to pour the mass, but first you add a few leaves and flowers to the substance.

"We need your help. With maintaining control over Aleksander."

"Oh really? Do you remember that time you told me to fuck off because I was of no use to you or your son?" You remind her, smirking as she clenches her teeth and fists, barely controlling her anger. "Besides, Aleksander has never been the submissive type... did it stay that way, Sankta Alina?" You almost laugh as you see the girl blush madly as she can't find her tongue at your comment.

"I… we never…"

"Oh really? Well, my mistake. And your loss." You say, winking at her and giving her a wolfish grin. Baghra clears her throat, drawing your attention for a moment.

"If you don't help us, they will kill him." You frown, setting down all your tools and turning to face the trio. A cold shiver runs down your spine as you carefully choose your next words.

“And remind me, why should I care?”

"I thought you liked your immortality." Baghra nods at your necklace. You wrap your hand around the small heart and swallow, examining her carefully.

"He told you?" You ask in shock, looking at the old woman.

"Of course not. It's Aleksander. I found out on my own." You roll your eyes and fold your arms at her accusatory tone of voice.

"Don't blame him for something you taught him yourself." You respond calmly, giving her a pointed, hard look. Baghra tenses and looks away from you to the crystals hanging above your table. The tension in the room is palpable as you both reminisce about old times.

Maybe centuries ago you managed to break through the wall Aleksander had placed around his heart and see the real him, but just as long ago as you gained access to the deepest and darkest part of him, you lost it long ago and quickly.

"Will you go with us?" Baghra growls, not meeting your eyes. You swallow hardly, thinking about it. You knew that there would come a time to right the wrongs of your past; you just didn't think it would happen so soon. Although, was 500 years a short time?

"And do I have another choice in this situation?" You sigh, knowing full well that it was time for you to join this great war the Summoners were leading.

Ravka needed you.

Aleksander needed you.

“What are you thinking about?” You whisper, placing small kisses on his neck—everywhere you can reach without taking your head off his shoulder.

You and Aleksander lie in the tent, listening to the crickets play their nightly tunes around you. You curl up against him, taking in his warmth as you both catch your breath after completing some... quite enjoyable and pleasant activities.

“How soft your skin is... just as if I were wearing the finest silk.” You snort at his words and prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. You stroke his cheek with your hand, ignoring the prickly two-day stubble on his face, and lean down to whisper in his ear.

"Not that I don't appreciate your ability to fire off compliments so quickly, but I really want to know what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours."

Aleksander sighs heavily and pulls you to him. He kisses you full of passion and ardour, as if you hadn't just given yourself over to each other's desires a few minutes ago. You sigh quietly, allowing him to distract you for a moment with a heated kiss as he climbs on top of you again, trapping you in the cage of his arms.

You place your hands on his chest and reluctantly pull away from his kiss. You pull him closer to you so he rests his forehead against yours, and you inhale his scent, enjoying his closeness.

"I still remember my question, how about you?"

He sighs, playing with your hair. He closes his eyes and gives you one last, short kiss before he rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You sigh, lying pressed against his chest as you listen to the steady beat of his heart. Aleksander plays with your hair, drawing patterns on your scalp with his fingers. He gathers his thoughts, pulling you closer to him and swallows hard before finally speaking again.

"I saw Ulla." You frown, feeling his muscles tense beneath you. You gently trace patterns on his arm with your fingertips, watching him closely as he mentions his sister.

"How is she?"

"Besides the fact that that idiot broke her heart? Very… lonely from what she told me." You sigh and press a kiss on his shoulder. He gives you a small half-smile and runs a hand through your hair.

"She needs time to heal. You'll see, you'll complain again that she and I spend too much time at the fairs and by the lakes and that she's stealing me from you." You joke, hoping to hear him chuckle, but he just sighs deeply, still haunted by thoughts of his sister.

"I asked her to return. To me. To us." He says thoughtfully and unconsciously tightens his grip on you, as if he were afraid that you might slip out of his arms at any moment.

"She didn't agree, I assume?" You ask quietly, cupping his cheek in your hand and stroking it tenderly with your thumb.

You want to give him all the physical closeness he needs. Give him every little reassurance that for now you're staying and you're not going anywhere. Or at least you hope to stay with him a little longer...

"Every person close to me, whether from my family or not, eventually leaves me. And never comes back. I'm afraid it'll be the same with her. I've buried a lot of brothers and sisters... but Ulla... it's different with her. I've taken care of her since she was a child. From the very beginning. I know she won't live as long as I, but... I'm sick of everyone leaving me."

"Ulla loves you. She won't leave you for long… I hope so."

"And would you come back to me? If we somehow got separated... would you return if I asked you to?" He asks, looking at you carefully.

In a heartbeat. You think about it, but you don't tell him. You don't want to give him false hope. Instead, you press lazy kisses along the column of his neck and jaw.

"Depends on how passionately you would ask me to…" You whisper seductively against his ear. A smirk appears on his face, and he raises an eyebrow, giving you a wicked, suggestive look.

“Greedy little thing.” He mumbles, nuzzling your cheek. His lips descend to your neck, where he sucks a hickey. You moan, exposing more of your neck to him and grinding against him.

“That’s why you love me.” You whine as he pushes you onto your back and presses his chest against yours. He cups your cheek in his hand, staring at you as if he’s trying to memorise and engrave every little detail of your face into his memory.

"I love you for more than that, little witch…" He mumbles into your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

A shiver of desire courses through you again. You pull him to you and kiss him passionately, digging your fingers into his shoulder as his hand wanders below your collarbone and cups your breast. He massages and kneads your body, plays with your nipple, and all you can think about is how good you feel under him, how he makes you experience pleasure so intense that you doubt you'll find it with anyone else.

You don't want to look for anything else. You want to be under him forever, intoxicated by the touch of his soft lips and rough hands as he takes you apart into tiny pieces, showing you the secrets of unimaginable and immense pleasure that makes you feel like you can't breathe anymore.

And you find yourself wanting to stop breathing if it meant that you would stay with him forever.

"From where exactly did you get your powers? Grisha are born that way, what about you? Has your family been witches for generations?" The young king of Ravka's question tears you from your thoughts.

"Why this curiosity, Your Highness?" You reply teasingly, watching him closely as you all rode horses to the capital.

You had been on the road for a few days now, and you were now leading them to one special place. Alina and Baghra, when they weren't giving you suspicious glances, were whispering to each other. Meanwhile Nikolai was trying to keep you occupied with conversation. He turned out to be a pleasant traveling companion. Not like certain women.

"A good king should take an interest in his subjects and know what kind of people live within the walls of his kingdom." His simple answer surprises you a little. The kings of his dynasty had a... completely different approach to this. Your years had taught you to distrust all monarchs, but this young king really did seem different from them all. You wondered how quickly he would fall.

"I am not your subject. I may live in Ravka, but neither I nor my family have ever sworn allegiance to the kings frim your dynasty. And we don't intend to."

"I see… so a free spirit? A woman of the world, as they call it?" You chuckle at this, shaking your head gently.

"You could say that. We sleep where we have comfortable moss under our heads, under the open sky with the stars as our guardians. I and the witches of my tribe are one with nature, with the earth, with what grows and dies on it. We are the guardians of the circle of life."

"However, not all of them decide to be in this cycle of life and follow it." Baghra points this out scathingly. You turn in your saddle to look at her for a moment.

"My immortality is no problem for Mother Nature, Baghra. Neither is yours. Nor is Aleksander's, or your little saint's. But it is in my care that the whole world does not suddenly become immortal. There is a worse evil in your shadows than you, volcra or nichevo'ya. And if I could go back in time, I would do the exact same thing… maybe just in a different way."

You shift your gaze from the old woman to the lakes before you, leading your horse onto a side path. You were not far from your destination place. You close your eyes and sigh, trying not to bring up any more memories of your past... any memories of HIM.

Yet, no matter how many years you have lived, you have never been able to contain your burning feeling of regret whenever you remembered what happened between you and Shadow Summoner.

"So? From where did you get your powers?" Nikolai pursues the topic, wanting to know the answer to his question. You run a hand through your hair and pull the hood over your head, realizing you won't get far without an answer. Autumn was coming. Cold autumn.

"The witches' coven I belong to accepts a new member every 100 years. In exchange for the powers the new witch receives from Mother Nature, she must sacrifice something."

"So what did you sacrifice? Your mortality?"

"No. She has sacrificed her ability to lie. She can only tell the truth. But do not be deceived. Even without that, she can conceal part of the truth and mislead you." Baghra answers for you. You roll your eyes at her, scanning the area. You smile when you see a familiar pine tree.

"I had a reason to do that. It was not an act of cunning on my part. I had to unless... that's not important now. Besides, I am far from a master like you, Baghra." You hear Nikolai chucklea softly as you speed up your horse. You reach the tree and dismount, sighing in relief as your feet touch the ground.

You walk to the tree and lean your hand against it. You grab one of the crystals you keep in your pocket and the dagger. You make a hole in the tree's bark and insert the crystal. You whisper a few words under your breath and sigh, feeling the wind on your skin. The water in the lake splits in half. You turn around with a small smile on your lips.

"Hello Ulla." You greet Aleksander's sister with a smile, watching Baghra turning pale from the corner of your eye as she faces the daughter she abandoned ages ago.

Best day of your life.

"How is he?" You ask Aleksander's sister when she returns from the cell they're keeping him in. The brown-haired one snorts, jumping onto your bed and taking your glass of whisky from you.

Today, your little group finally made it to the capital. The first thing Ulla did was visit her brother. She looked older than the last time you saw her. Streaks of grey hair were starting to appear on her head, and you swear you saw a few wrinkles on her face. Time had done its thing to her. Your heart ached at the thought that in 300 years, she might not be here anymore...

"Angry, frustrated, resigned. At first, I didn't recognise him at all. Those scars... and he... he doesn't have that twinkle in his eyes like he used to. Like... like he doesn't care anymore. He was excited to see me, but this... this isn't the same Aleksander he was before. I felt like a stranger was standing before me, not Sasha. Baghra was right. Something's wrong with him."

"I'll kill their little saint. And your mother." You growl completely mad at them both because of the state they brought Aleksander to and get out of your bed. You go to the closet and put on one of your grey coats, ignoring the mischievous look Ulla gives you.

"You still love him, don't you?" You roll your eyes at her and shove your hands into your pockets, making sure you have a few crystals there in case you need to use your magic.

"I forgot how much you love coming up with your conspiracy theories. Which by the way are very annoying."

"You're not answering my question." She replies with a smirk. She walks over to you and gently smooths your hair. You snort, pushing her hands away, knowing full well that she's getting you ready to meet her brother.

"It's no secret that I care about him. We spent a good few years together, almost a century if I remember correctly. Is it possible to just forget about someone like that?"

"I don't think so. You should have seen his reaction when I told him you came here with me. I thought he had a heart attack." You groan at her words, disbelieving that she was actually playing matchmaker between you and her brother right now.

"You told him?!"

"You go to him anyway. What's the problem?" She replies indignantly, walking back to your bed and laying down on it. You roll your eyes at her, and with a wave of your hand, the pillow she had under her head disappears. Ulla shouts at you angrily, and you quickly materialise the pillow in your hands and throw it at the woman.

"Because of you, I lost all the element of surprise that I could have used on him to get some information!" You growl at her angrily, grabbing and throwing away the pillow she threw at you. You jump on the bed and pin her to the mattress, laughing at her as she growls, trying to get out from under you.

"Wait! Wait! I'll tell you how he reacted to that!!" She screams from under the pillow you've started to smother her with. You lift the pillow enough to look at her face.

"How? He made those big, puppy eyes of his and asked you to free him from his cell so he could run to me and give in to his long-held passion and feelings?" You mock her as you climb off of her. You lean against the wooden bedpost, watching her try to catch her breath.

"More or less… he asked what you looked like, how you were, if we had met before… if you were with someone." She says maliciously, giving you a big, sly, wolfish smile.

"You're joking, right?" You ask her, trying to hide your surprise under a neutral, bored tone.

"No. Our Sasha wanted to know if you had someone for his place."

"Is that exactly how he put it in words?"

"Well… maybe not." She replies after a moment, running a hand through her hair. You sigh, shaking your head at her in disbelief. So many years, and sometimes she still behaved like a child.

"Ulla." You growl at her and reach for the pillow again.

"Okay, okay. No need to be violent. He asked if Baghra had also sent for you, so that you could fly in on your magic broom and stab him in the heart once and for all, or if you had found yourself a new more intersting toy, but hey, at least he was interested and asked!"

"Poor consolation."

"You know how Sasha is." You sigh in resignation at this. You bite your lip so hard that you taste your own blood on your tongue. You promised yourself that you wouldn't get your hopes up… Aleksander and you were a long-finished affair. No matter what his sister thought.

"I know him too good to have any illusion that he sees me as anything more than an enemy and a traitor." You answer and get out of bed, mentally preparing yourself to meet him.

"Where are you going?!"

"To him! A day without tormenting him is a wasted day!" You shout over your shoulder and close the door behind you.

You walk lazily through the corridors of the Grand Palace, as if deliberately prolonging the moment of seeing Aleksander, and head towards the second building in the royal courtyard. You sigh again as the majestic panorama of the Little Palace unfolds before you.

Looking at the beautiful, imposing building, you reluctantly recall the plans your Shadow Summoner made centuries ago.

“What are you doing?” You ask, coming up behind him as he sits at one of the tables in the library of the town you’re staying in for a few nights.

Aleksander bounces slightly in his chair and quickly shoves his sketchbook and art supplies into his bag. You frown, wondering what he's hiding from you, when he turns to you with that damn distracting smirk on his face.

"Nothing important, milaya. Were you looking for me? Do you need anything?" He asks and walks over to you, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses your forehead tenderly before he wraps his arm around your waist and starts leading you out of the library.

"Your mother was looking for you. She needs babysitters for Ulla again." You say, nuzzling his neck and inhaling his scent. You wrinkle your nose at the familiar scent of burning metal and sweat from his work at the forge. He laughs at your reaction and pulls you closer to him, making sure you don't pull away from him despite everything.

"I know, I need to take a bath. But I hope you will help me?"

"Taking a bath?" You ask suggestively, laughing as he blushes all shyly and looks at you nervously.

"No!" He almost screams and buryes his face in your hair with a groan as you continue to laugh at him. "Taking care of Ulla."

"Always. But first…" you start and reach into his bag. You pick out his sketchbook and run forward, looking for the page he was working on so furiously in the library before you spoke.

“Y/N, no!” Aleksander shouts and runs after you. A few long strides of his, and you’re pinned to the ground by him. You laugh and struggle under him, but your struggle is futile. He quickly rips the sketchbook out of your hands and puts it somewhere safe before he pins your wrists to the ground. "You can't look into it without my permission. It is... personal."

"Sorry, handsome." You say and kiss his blushing cheek. You giggle as he lets go and climbs off of you. Before he can stand up, you snuggle into his back and wrap your arms around him. Your nose brushes his ear as you whisper quietly. "But you're so secretive lately… you know I don't like to not know what's in that pretty little head of yours. If you don't want to talk, then don't, but I just want to know if everything's okay and if there's nothing steaming up under your skull."

"I'm fine… I just... I will tell you in our room in tavern." You nod at his words and grab his hand. He gives you a small smile as you both walk through town, ignoring the looks you get from passersby who witness your little skirmish.

Once you're there, Ulla runs straight to Aleksander, wrapping her little arms tightly around his legs. The little one cries into his pants, sobbing that she thought you had abandoned her. The sight breaks your heart and makes you want to cut Baghra up and roast him into little pieces.

Aleksander abandons his bag and embraces the girl in a tight embrace. He goes to one of the single beds and tries to calm her down, whispering soft words of reassurance into her ear that he will never leave her. You sigh and pick up Aleksander's bag. You put it back on the hanger and briefly consider peeking in.

You abandon the idea and head back to the two of them to join in the group hug. You silently worry about what your "boyfriend" might have come up with. You're afraid it'll be something for your ring finger.

A moment later, as Ulla falls asleep with her head on your lap, Aleksander returns with dinner for the three of you. His sketchbook is tucked under his arm.

"I want to show you something." He whispers and sets the food on the nightstand next to your double bed. He crouches down next to the sinle bed where the two of you are and opens the book. Your heart is beating like crazy, your hands shaking as you take the leather-bound book from him.

"What is this?" You ask, looking closely at the outline of a grand building. It looked almost like a palace.

"I... I know this life isn't one of the best we could have... but it's still one of the best I've ever had. Of course it's all thanks to you and Ulla. I... I have a proposition before me. A very serious one. If I play my cards right, I'd like to build a place for the three of us. And for the other Grisha who are in need of their own safe place. Can you imagine? No more working in some shitty places, no more hiding our identity... it could be really nice, right?"

You sigh, gently placing Ulla's head on the pillow. You take Aleksander's hand and lead him to your bed. You both sit up slowly as you think about everything he's just told you.

"That... would be nice. But... Aleksander, this is a palace. The king would never agree; you know how he feels about us. Tell me you're not getting involved in anything dangerous." You sigh and place your hand on his cheek. He buries his face in your palm and closes his eyes. He wraps his arms around you tightly and presses a kiss to your temple before burying his nose in your hair.

"I'll be fine… but I'm tired of hiding. It's time to come out of the shadows… start using my powers and do something good not only for us, but for the other Grisha. Too many of us have died because of their stupidity."

"And I don't want your name added to that long list. Ulla needs you, and I'd rather have you alive with me, too." You mumble into his neck, holding on to him tighter.

"Is this your way of saying that you love me?" He asks teasingly, drawing patterns on your back with his fingers.

"That's my way of telling you that if you die, I'll find some damn spell or some other way to bring you back to life just so I can skin you for being such an idiot to get yourself killed."You growl quietly so as not to wake up Ulla and pull away from him to look into his eyes. Aleksander swallows, realising how true your words are.

"I'm not leaving you… not on purpose. I will always do everything in my power to come back to you. I promise." He whispers and kisses you sweetly, softly, thus sealing his promise.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you. You fall onto the mattress on your back with him above you and surrender to the blissful feeling of his arms around you.

You try to enjoy this as long as you can.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the door to his cell. Sankta Alina and her king Nikolai have taken pity on him enough to set up cells for him in his former general's quarters. Of course, only after they've thoroughly searched the room. Such a petty act of malice.

You take one deep breath and enter the chamber.

It's dark there. Terribly dark. You can barely see your fingers as you close the door behind you. You reach for the crystal in your pocket and pull it out, holding it like a torch. You mutter the appropriate spell under your breath, and suddenly light emanates from the gem. You sigh as you see Aleksander standing just outside the bars, already staring at you intently.

"Aleksander." You whisper, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling you get from looking at the scars on his face and the fact that he hasn't spoken or made a fucking move yet. Not even for an inch. You doubt if he even blinks once since you entered. The son of a bitch was trying to intimidate you and scare you away. "Did they cut out your tongue?" You scoff, walking up to him and giving him an equally crazy, psychopathic look.

"Will you ever learn how to knock?"

"You seem to be very aware of my presence even before I open this door. Unless you have so many guests here that you simply cannot tear yourself away from these bars?"

"Too much lately." He hisses in irritation through clenched teeth, at which you roll your eyes.

"Hmm… good thing I'm not your guest." You say sarcastically and wave your hand, teleporting one of the chairs from his cell/chamber to the other side of the bars. You sit comfortably in front of him with the light-emitting crystals in your lap and just look at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I guess if I don't do this, you'll never get out of here, so there you go. Why are you here?" He asks after a long moment of silence, sighing as he finally gives up.

"I have been given a task by Their Royal Highnesses." You scoff, watching as the frown on his forehead deepens as he ponders the hidden meaning behind your words. "Aren't you curious what it might be?"

"With their brains? No big deal, I suppose." He mocks them and steps away from the bars. He pours himself a glass of whisky and sits down at a table with maps spread out on it. You raise an eyebrow at how... convenient he is. You don't remember the guest room they assigned you having such comforts.

"Yet they have locked you up here… without powers I suppose? I cannot feel your shadows." You see his fingers tighten angrily around the glass. You make a mental note that this is clearly not a pleasant topic for him.

"Still have that pendant?" He asks, nodding at you when he spots your heart-shaped pendant. You tense up and pull your knees to your chest, blocking his view of the necklace.

"Apparently. Would I be here if I didn't have it?" You answer carefully, fully aware of the game you're playing with Aleksander now. Everything you said was meant to hurt the other, to prove that you weren't impressed at all by being in the other's presence again. Even if you both had some... strong feelings at the sight of the other, you wouldn't admit it.

All that mattered now was who would win and hit the hardest, breaking the mask of indifference that you both tried so hard to keep on your faces... although his eyes tell you a little that your presence here isn't so irritating and indifferent to him at all.

"Of course not. After all you don't have a heart of your own."

You smile, trying not to show how his words really affected you. You internally regret that he went from being the person you trusted with all your worries to someone you wouldn't let see even a glimmer of pain in your eyes.

"Ouch. That hurt. And here I tried to be nice and inform you that for now on I am your guard and I oversee your resocialization process."

"I beg you pardon?" He asks in shock as you casually play with the gem in your hands. Aleksander watches closely as the light from it reflects off your fingers, face, chin, cheeks, lips…

"Just like you heard, honey. We'll be spending more time together again, aren't you happy?" You reply with a mocking smile and watch him carefully, gauging how he reacts to this new message.

"Resocialization? Does the fact that I wanted to help Grisha make me some kind of criminal from Ketterdam?"

"Words of Sankta Alina, not mine. Your ex probably doesn't like you very much. And from what I heard, you started destroying villages. You know who used such practices, right?" At the reference to his mother, he becomes even more gloomy. You get the feeling that if he could still control his shadows, he would at that very moment engulf the room in total darkness.

"Alina is not my ex." He merely comments as he adjusts the fastenings of his all-black kefta.

"My bad."

He stares at you for a long moment. You feel your skin burn where his eyes linger a little longer. You take advantage of that time to watch him too, searching for any slight changes in him since you last saw him.

"You, of all people, are supposed to lead me to the good, righteous path? This is ridiculous." You snort, also amused by the absurdity of this situation. Out of the two of you, N had always been the more... righteous one. Ironically, you were the one who was supposed to dig up the last remnants of his morality.

"Well, for some reason they want you alive. And they want you to cooperate. I'm supposed to be… a go-between in all of this mess."

"More like an infernal messenger of the devil." You smile, shaking your head. Aleksander tries to ignore the slight flutter in his heart and the pleasant warmth spreading through him as he witnesses your smile again.

"You always knew how to give me such beautiful compliments."

"They are desperate, aren't they? Destroying the fold didn't help and now they don't know what to do and want my advice? Tell your masters it's too late now." He says, returning to the main topic. He stands up from the war table, and you see him heading deeper into his chambers, probably his bedroom. With a wave of your hand, you close the door in his face before he has a chance to leave the room.

"You know very well that I have no master over me." You tell him, standing up from the chair as he slowly turns to face you.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you Y/N?" He asks, slowly approaching you. You shiver when you hear your name on his tongue. You clench your hands behind you as he slowly approaches you. The tension in the room is immense as you both stand as close to the bars as you can.

"Well, apparently neither do you." You whisper, trying to ignore the way he smelled so wonderful, how in an instant his closeness and the warmth he radiated made you feel at home again. How much you wanted to sink back into his arms and his sheets…

"Why are you here?" He asks, but is met only by your silence and a cold gaze that almost makes him tremble. "Don't you have other things on your mind? You're not going to tell me that this is only for my sake? I know perfectly well that you wouldn't return if I asked you. So why did you listen to my mother and also bring Ulla?"

"You don't know if I would come back. You never asked." You respond, your voice barely above a quiet purr. There’s a long silence after your words. He lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around the bars—dangerously close to your cheek.

"And are you surprised?"

"No. Actually, I am not."

You examine the scars on his face and barely manage to stop yourself from slipping your fingers between the bars and tracing them with your fingertips. Aleksander holds his breath, his lips twitching as he resists any movement under your watchful gaze.

He fights with himself not to reach for you and brush his fingers against your soft, velvety skin, or check that you're actually here in the flesh and not a figment of his imagination. Your sweet scent intoxicates him, reminding him how dangerous you are and that he can't trust you like he did. Which doesn't change the fact that he wants it so much.

"Gently, Ivan." You frown, not understanding what he means.

"What..." You're not allowed to finish. You feel your heartbeat slow down, and you slip into unconsciousness, only noticing the red and black kefta of one of his heartrenders out of the corner of your eye.

Your vision blurs, you slowly fall asleep, and all you can see before you collapse into the heartrender's arms are Aleksander's black eyes.

The son of a bitch ordered one of his men to put you to sleep and carry you out of his cell. Bastard.

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

"Always."

"Forever."

@deadchaoticcosmos

[aphroditelovesu]

I'm so glad you write for shadow and bone now! can i request yandere the darkling/ Alexander Morozova with a reader who is not grisha? it can be platonic or romantic..your choice 🌷

''You are my salvation.'' - Darkling.

❝ ✟ — lady l: I just wanted to say that I am completely hungry for content from this man and I hope you guys like how I wrote this headcanon ❤️❤️.

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of death and torture, mildly suggestive, unhealthy romantic relationship.

❝✟pairing: yandere!darkling/aleksander morozova x otkazat’sya!reader.

Aleksander didn't like that at first. He didn't hate you, he hated the fact that you were mortal, an otkazat'sya, but not you, never you. Perhaps he resents the fact that you're human, but he didn't hate you. He could never hate you no matter what you did.

He met you by pure coincidence for you, but for him it was fate. Destiny, maybe the Saints, brought you to him. You were the newest cartographer in the Second Army and you were still getting used to it all, being in the army and with the grishas. You didn't hate them, but you couldn't say you loved them, you were neutral towards them.

There was nothing special about you. Just another mortal serving the military like most did. You didn't hate being a cartographer, but you couldn't say you loved it. It was your duty and that was it. Aleksander has paid attention to you since your first day, but you haven't noticed General Kirigan's curious and terrifying gazes on you.

He was content to just watch you from the shadows for a while. Learning everything he could about you that he could later use to get closer to you. You totally missed his looks, the way he seemed to devour you. He was the General and you were a simple cartographer, there would hardly be any interaction between the two of you. But there was, and he was hungry for more.

The first real interaction the two of you had was during a cold night at the military camp. You couldn't sleep and decided to take a walk, late at night and when most soldiers and grishas were asleep. Except you and him. You sat in a secluded spot and shivered in the cold. When a blanket was draped over your shoulders, you looked up to the one who gave it to you to thank them and found Aleksander's mesmerizing eyes watching you intently.

Aleksander never forgot your shy look and lowered head, as if you were too scared to speak to him. He never forgot your calm, low voice when you thanked him for the blanket, as if it was the only act of kindness you had ever received in your whole life. And he found himself wanting more, desperately wanting to hear your voice and the sweet sounds you could make. He didn't understand why he was so attracted to you, he hated the otkazat'sya, so why did he see himself wanting your attention and love?

He didn't understand his feelings for you, how desperately he wanted to protect and care for you. He's never felt this way before about anyone but himself. Aleksander just knew that he wanted you, that he needed you with him one way or another. He desperately needed you and he didn't know why, but that only you had to be his. And you would be his.

He's extremely overprotective of you, but how could he not be? You were so young, so helpless and so human. It was his duty to look after you to make sure you were well cared for and fed. Needless to say that you would get the best rooms, the best clothes and the best food. No one can even think of inflicting any harm on you, whether human or grisha, they all know you are off limits and must be protected or they will suffer the Darkling's wrath. And his wrath is not taken lightly, especially when you're involved.

Aleksander adores you, he loves you, or so he believes, but he hated your humanity. He hated that he was deeply involved with an otkazat'sya, but eventually he came to see the advantage in it. You weren't grisha, you couldn't defend yourself against him or run away if those were yours wishes, you were at his mercy and he grew to like that very much. You were in his hands as much as he was in yours, and he loved that. You belonged to him and he could do what he wanted with you, shape you any way he wanted and he wouldn't have to worry about you rebelling against him. At least that's how he thinks.

He'll manipulate you with no qualms, whispering sweet words in your ear as he worships your body and the next moment he's pouring venom into your ear, saying things like how perfect you are, how you should never leave his side. How he is the only one who loves you and who will take care of you for your whole life. How you were made for each other and no one deserves you more than him. You must always remain loyal to him and he will give you the world if you ask him to.

You became everything to him as you grew closer and closer. Aleksander will become more and more obsessive and possessive of you. He won't like it one bit if someone flirts with you, otkazat'sya or grisha, you're his and he won't let anyone steal you from him. He will show no mercy to anyone, destroying them in horrible ways, to set an example to anyone who has bad intentions towards you. You are his and he is his.

This isn't how you planned your love story with General Kirigan to go, but you're too wrapped up in his clutches, in his promises of love, to realize how wrong it is. You were so in love with him that you never noticed or cared about anything but him and the manipulations and horrors he will commit in the name of love. None of that will matter because you're together. An otkazat'sya and a grisha together forever. It would be you against the world and Aleksander will be your only company, the only one you will ever need.

[chibipeachu]

Pretty Songbird || Aleksander M.

A/N: I watched snakes and songbirds and had this ideas stuck in my head ever since i saw it last week, idk if it's gonna be a series, if you have any ideas pls tell me!!

WC: 1311 Warning: Fem!Reader, the moon summoner trope, not proof read so i take credit for mispelling or mistakes..

Alina sighed as herself and Mal walked into a busy club to get away from their pursuers.

“It should be too crowded to notice us in this crowd, just keep the hood on.” Mal whispered to Alina as they moved closer to the stage where others stood, waiting for the performer. 

“Want something?” 

Alina turned and nodded as Mal gave a quick nod before walking to the bartender.

As alina went to stand near a corner of the crowded club she bumped into another young girl. “Aww, sorry..” “Ah, i’m sorry.”  They both apologized to one another.

“It’s alright, just a throbbing but it’ll go away with a drink.” The girl brushed it off and gave alina a smile. 

“You look familiar..” Alina felt her heart drop, as the expression the girl made was of realization. “You’re her aren’t you?” Alina tensed up and lifted her hand in case she need to summon to stop the girl from doing something.

“It’s alright, your safe here, i just recommend the further booth over there if you don’t want to draw attention..” Alina followed the girls direction and saw an empty booth and nodded at her. “Thank you..?” She waited for a name.

“Y/n, i’m a performer here tonight.” She smiled and pointed towards the stage were drunks and many excited people stood waiting.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

People whispered to one another as they noticed the brooding, darkling who was accompanied with other grisha, they all had looks of distaste on their faces as they scanned the club. 

Alesksander’s attention jumped as two women in front of him talked about the performer. 

“Is it true she can summon?” 

“Rumors say she can but was sick during her testing and got dismissed.” 

Before any of them could provide aleksander with information, a young woman, dressed in a loose blouse and what looked like the first army pants.

“Based on all the chatter I could hear from back there, I assume it’s about myself?” You grinned as you scanned the crowd.

A mixed of positive responses came from the busy club.

Aleksander noticed how each of his grisha searched the crowd.

“Aww stop it, i’m blushing!” You playfully waved to the crowd before turning to the band who waited for your sign to play.

As the band started up, you danced around the stage a bit.

“So if you don’t know, i wrote this many, many, many years ago when i was stuck as a showstopper for tow men on each side of the fold, one more then the other..” You referenced to your pants before raising an eyebrow.

Aleksander wasn’t surprised, zlatan of course wouldn’t share a summoner with anyone, especially the king and aleksander.

“Can’t take my charm,

Can’t take my humor,

Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumor.

Nothing you can take was ever with keeping.

No nothing you can take was every worthing keeping.”

As alina listened to your singing she glanced around the room and froze as she spotted aleksander and the other grisha in the club.

Alina subtly nudged mal who popped up and ushered alina through the crowd to leave quickly.

As you took a breath, you felt yourself stop for a moment, as you took note of the dark eyes of the darkling.

“Thinking you’re so fine,

Thinking you could have mine.

Thinking in control, thinking you can change me, maybe rearrange me.

Think again if that’s your goal.” 

You stomped your boots at each sentence, making the crowd cheer.

Through the small break of your singing, you held strong eye contact with the darkling, from what zlatan had told you, he was saving you from the general who had “tossed your abilities aside” those were the only words you believed from the first general, you had tried to get test when you were a teen but got reject when you said you could summon.

“Can’t take my sass,

Can’t take my talking.

You can kiss my ass,

Then keep on walking!

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,

Oh, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.” You stared him down while continuing to sing.

Zoya scoffed as she followed your and aleksander’s gaze to one another. 

Aleksander looked away from you to look at the sour expression on her face.

“She’s insulting you to your face..” 

“I know..” He responded, his eyes moving back onto you which your eyes were closed as you finished the song.

“Nothing you can take from is worth dirt,

Take it cause i’d give it free, it won’t hurt.

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..”

As you finished the crowd cheered making you grin and gave a bow before walking to your bandmate and motioned for behind the stage before exiting, they band continued to play as you left.

Aleksander hadn’t noticed zoya rambling on how disrespectful you were, he piped up as you left the stage. “I’ll be back.” He told zoya before walking outside the club.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You quietly exited from the building and leaned against the building.

You were now screwed, after many blissful years away from zlatan and kirigan it had to come crashing down.

Being upset you got up and kicked the tins in the back alley of the club.

“That was quite the show..” You jumped at the general’s voice.

“General kirigan..” You greeted, walking to pick up the fallen over tins. 

“You worked under zlatan?” He questioned, making you chuckle. 

“What made it obvious? My clothes or the song?” You asked, putting the lid back on before turning to his figure.

“He rarely sent letters to the palace grounds to let us know of anything.” 

You scoffed, knowing where he was trying to lead the conversation.

“Bullshit, don’t play like you never knew about me, I stood in front of grisha testers and was denied a retest because of my ability, each test is shown in front of you, in your lap to see the newest grisha!” You walked closer to him as you went on.

“Nice try to play that card but the only words I ever believed from zlatan was that you tossed me aside.” You brushed past the darkling and went to enter the club again but was stopped by him grabbing your wrist in a tight grasp and pulling you back to face him.

“You could train in the little palace with others, be with your own kind.” He tried to convince you.

“You missed that train where I wanted to fit in with others badly, I will not be trained to replace your little sun summoner.” You ripped your wrist form his grasp and walked back into the club.

Aleksander stood by himself in the alley, shocked you had decline his offer.

After he collected himself he walked into the club to collect his grisha.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Weeks had passed since the incident at the club.

Aleksander hadn’t been expecting a meeting with the king, he was confused at the sudden arrangement.

“Tsar.” Aleksander greeted as he entered his war room.

“General.” King Pyotr greeted, letting aleksander step in further before continuing. 

“Is there a reason you called upon me?” Aleksander questioned.

“When you were visiting ryevost, did you happened to see this girl?” The king unfolded a drawing of the singer he had a conversation with weeks ago.

“She’s rumored to be a moon summoner, if anything, everyone’s after her. And i believe she’ll do good here in the little palace under your control.” He continued, aleksander studied the poster.

“I’ll send grisha to find her…” The king smiled and nodded in aleksander’s direction before getting up and leaving.

Once gone, aleksander picked up the paper to admire your beauty. 

“I’ll find you, songbird..” He muttered as he read over the paper.

Y/N Y/L/N  - GRISHA - WANTED BY KING PYOTR AND GENERAL KIRIGAN.

[dearmantis]

Golden Crown of Sorrow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: After sending dozens of letters begging your father to help you flee from your betrothed and his family, someone finally comes to save you

Warnings: domestic abuse, neglectful/abusive parents, sexism/violence against women, mentions of suicide, murder, mentions of child murder, mentions of getting attacked by an animal (if you get bitten by something, even a human, get checked by a medical professional), Fjerda slander, mention of pregnancy

Word Count: 4k words

Authors Note: This was originally part of A little loss of Innocence but it works way better as it's own one shot. Also, please pay attention to the warnings. English is not my native language and I didn't edit this

"Did my father send you?" You ask as you settle in the carriage, voice timid and quiet in a way that is so unlike the version of you that he knows that it throws him off for a second.

You haven't spoken at all during the ride here, contempt in burying your fingers in the mane of his horse or sleeping as he led it away from the house of the family you were promised to, and starring at the forest or the small fires he lit to cook food during the breaks.

His gaze wanders over you, taking in the way your shoulders are pulled together to make you appear smaller, the small, almost invisible cut on your left cheek, the way you keep wincing when the carriage shakes a bit, and how your eyes keep jumping around, gaze always flickering between the window and the position of his hands.

He can't lie to you, he realises. You're suspicious and filled to the brim with fear and paranoia. Whatever happened in Fjerda has shaken you to the core and thrown you right into survival mode. If he lies to you and you find out, you will never trust him with anything ever again.

Because even if you recover from this, you will always remember the fact that he lied to you when you were in your most vulnerable state. And Aleksander needs the trust of the royal family, as much as he might despise that fact.

"No"

You bite your lip harshly, teeth digging into the chapped, dry flesh before you nod, eyes finding his. The suspicion in them is stronger now, accompanied by a bit of confusion.

"Then why did you come? What's in it for you?"

Aleksander frowns. "Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why are you saving me? Why did you decide to come here instead of letting me die in Djerholm? My own family was ready to watch me perish there after all."

There is no anger in your voice, no sadness, nothing. Just this monotone, quiet, submissive voice that doesn't fit someone born into the status of royalty.

But your gaze is scrutinizing, clarifying that every question you ask is a test designed to make him trip in hopes of revealing his true motivations. You're expecting him to lie to you. In the back of your mind you're probably already planning how to weasel the truth out of him, so all he can really do to take control over the situation and reassure you into trusting him is to reveal the truth and in turn his playing cards for this specific game.

You want him to lie, and he has never enjoyed doing what the royal family wants.

"Glory"

Your surprise is like a shooting star: Visible for a singular heartbeat, then gone forever.

"Glory?" Your eyes look back down to your knees, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress while the volume of your voice drops into a whisper. "You won't achieve glory like this. You will most likely be punished for saving me, and I'll be sent back."

Your behaviour is starting to bother him. It was a welcome change when he first got you out and traveled through Fjerda with you on the saddle in front of him, but now all he wants to do is shake you until the words start falling out of your mouth.

He thought you were just quiet because you were scared of being caught, but evidently, nothing has changed for you after he led you across the border to Ravka.

Maybe it would've been better to lie? To tell you that he was some kind of chivalrous knight in shining armour who had come to Fjerda out of the goodness of his own heart to save his struggling princess?

"I doubt that you'll be send back, your highness," he responds carefully. He never thought about the fact that your family might be upset about him saving you. They did give you away after all, and he simply acted on the assumption that they love you and want you to be safe, like all parents should. He should know by now that many parents don't love their children.

"I hope you're right," you mumble, averting your gaze to look at the scenery of Ravka rushing past the window, "For the sake of both of us."

You sink back into silence after that, and the letter still stuck in a pocket of his kefta is suddenly heavy as a bag of bricks. It's a short one, written on a scrap of paper that you must've somehow smuggled out of the house of your betrothed. It had ended up in his mail one day, either through an accident or through a servant who couldn't continue to watch the king ignore your cries for help.

Please father. I don't know how much longer I can survive this. I dream of taking a knife to my throat every day. I'm not strong enough for this.

The next time you speak, you're less than ten minutes away from the town where he planned to take a break, your quiet voice piercing through the air like an arrow.

"Do you have to bring me to my father?"

Aleksander looks up from the documents he had been reading, a deep frown on his face. "Where else would I bring you, your highness?"

You mirror his facial expression. "You could hide me at the Little Palace."

"No, I can't. What if someone catches you?"

"Nobody would catch me, I promise. I would be so quiet, I would never leave my rooms I would-"

"No. End of the discussion, or I'll tell the coachman to turn around and bring you back to your betrothed."

His voice is sharp and cold, the stress from the last few days finally boiling over, and you flinch back from him so harshly that your head hits the wood behind you. Fear burns like a small fire in your gaze, your frame curling in on itself even further.

You don't talk at all for two days straight after that. The only time he hears your voice is when you scream and cry at night, probably due to nightmares.

Looking back, he probably overreacted a bit.

The next time you talk, it's only because he asks you a question.

You're both sitting in a tavern, quietly eating together, and while your gaze keeps jumping from the three other people around you to the door and the windows, his is glued to you.

He has collected a thousand questions on his tongue in the last few days, and his mind works overtime trying to discern the differences between you now and you before all of this. Before the betrothal, before your travels to Fjerda.

"What exactly happened to you in Fjerda?"

Your attention shifts to him, brows furrowed.

"The same thing that always happens when a woman of Ravka gets betrothed to a man of Fjerda."

In the back of his mind, he remembers the death of Princess Fruzsina. How her brother, crown prince Konstantin, didn't let anyone see her or her newborn daughters corpse when they were transported back to Ravka, not even her own parents.

"Nobody needs to see this. It's better to remember her the way she was when she was still here."

He feels acid rising in his throat.

You talk again a few hours later, attention flickering from the window of the carriage to him and back a few times before you finally manage to find your voice again.

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You ask carefully.

Aleksander looks up from the book he has been reading, a small spark of annoyance visible in his eyes at the interruption.

He regrets it as soon as he sees you flinch again, his mind immediately travelling back to that young woman completely wrapped in shroud, her small babe right next to her. Just bundles of linen, not a milimetre of skin visible.

"Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You repeat, "Or one of your ancestors at least. Wouldn't that make sense? Tie you and the Darkling line to the royal family through marriage and kids, force allegiance that way?"

Closing the book slowly, he lets your words roll over in his head.

"The Darklings have been loyal to the Royal Family since the Black Heretic died."

"Yes, but wouldn't it be better to tie the families together forever? It would also help to smooth over past animosities, I think. Suddenly, the king isn't just a stranger. He's the current Darklings father in law or uncle. And the Darkling is no longer a random stranger to the Princes and Princesses either. He's their cousin."

The idea is simple and logical, he has to give you that, but he has also spent the last two centuries making sure he wouldn't be betrothed to anyone. It kind of ruins his whole "faking his death and pretending to be his own son" ruse, after all. But he can't explain that to you, can he?

"No ravkan king would ever betroth their child to a Grisha, your Highness. Not when all over the country highborn children are still drowned in lakes and bathtubs as soon as they show their abilities." The words come out harsher than originally planned, but he doesn't correct himself. "Why are you thinking about this? You've never shown interest in Grisha, me, or the politics surrounding us."

He has to wait almost thirty minutes for an answer to that question. He's gone back to reading, carefully annotating his thoughts and questions, when your voice rings through the carriage once more, almost getting swallowed by the noise of the horses outside.

"At night, when I couldn't sleep, I often asked myself if I had other options. If I could've gotten betrothed to someone else. One of the only men I could think of that were still eligible is... you. And as soon as I realised that, I also noticed that the Darklings have never married someone highborn."

There's something else, he can tell by the way you speak, slow and careful like you're holding something back, but before he can even think to push you the carriage shakes and your face contorts into a pained grimace.

He doesn't have to see the skin hidden by your clothes to know that you're probably covered in bruises and cuts, maybe even some animal bite marks.

You should rest, and he can still interrogate you later, so he slowly nods and returns to his book, his eyes gliding over the paper without absorbing a single word. His mind stays with you.

You start having an easier time moving and walking a week after escaping your betrothed and his family, but you're still visibly keyed up and stressed. Everything scares you, everything wakes your suspicion, everything worries you.

He hears you mutter under your breath sometimes, especially during the late hours of the night and the hours before sunrise, convinced that he must be asleep. He can never quite understand what you're saying, only catching a few words at a time when it happens. You whisper about wolves following your scent, of someone sending you back into the north, of shoving a knife into your neck, deep enough that not even a well trained healer would be able to save you in time.

Your lack of sleep worries him as well. The only times he has seen you truly sleep well were at the beginning of your travels. You almost slept for two days straight, sitting in front of him on his horse, his arms keeping you stable in the saddle, only waking up after he made camp for the night and forced you to drink and eat. Now, the only sleep you get is through small involuntary naps in the carriage, when the exhaustion claims you like it did in those first two days.

The nightmares that wake you as soon as you fall asleep don't help either.

You're petting and brushing the horses while the other Grisha accompanying you fill the water bottles at a nearby river, your only guard being the General himself sitting a few metres away, eyes on the forest surrounding you.

"I was surprised how much I missed you," you say after a while, your attention still fully on the beautiful horses in front of you, carefully brushing the dust and dirt out of their fur in hopes of making them a bit more comfortable, "I missed my brothers, of course, and my friends and servants as well. I missed the gardens of the Grand Palace, the beauty of Os Alta, my own bed. I missed being home and not being scared for my life. But I also missed you a lot more than I thought I would."

You don't look at him, your voice light as if you were talking about the weather.

"I kept thinking about how much time I spend bothering you, how much my own parents brainwashed me into disliking you, and how much you must've suffered because of that. I was a brat before I was sent north, I know that now, and I want to apologize for my behaviour. I can't thank you enough for coming to save me despite everything."

Aleksander is speechless for longer than he would like to admit, starring at you with visible shock on his face. It takes him a while to shake it off, to find the right words to respond to you.

"You were a child for most of it, Your Highness. It would be stupid of me to hold a grudge because of that."

He has held grudges because of less, but you don't need to know that. You're the first member of the Royal Family to actually apologize to him. Sure, you're probably only doing it because he saved you from your betrothed, but he can tell that you genuinely feel bad.

"It wouldn't be. I was a terror as a child and grew up to be a brat."

The Darkling frowns weakly, watching you carefully as you move onto the second horse to brush it.

"I was a brat, and stupid too. I heard the story of Princess Fruzsina a thousand times. I even dug through the archive to read the reports from the Healers. I know everything they did to her. I'm probably the only person alive that actually still knows, since no one ever bothers to read through those documents... and I went north anyway. I betrayed her memory. She begged in her last letter before she was murdered that they could never send another ravkan girl north, and I went anyway."

He shakes his head, responding to your words before he even realises that he opened his mouth. "You did what your parents wanted from you. They were the ones suggesting the betrothal, and they encouraged you to go through with it. If anyone betrayed Fruzsinas' memory, it's them, just like they betrayed you when they suggested the betrothal without educating you on the sensitive political climate in Fjerda and their exact traditions and rules."

"I'm a woman grown, General, and I did research on Fruzsinas murder on my own. I should've done the same with the treatment of women in Fjerda instead of blindly believing my mother when she assured me that the men in the north don't hit their wives anymore. That they wouldn't dare to hurt a girl from a royal family. I'm a stupid little girl, nothing more."

"You believed that your parents would keep you safe instead of selling your life away for a political alliance. You assumed that your family would do what they're supposed to do. That's not a sin, your highness."

"Oh, but it is!" You bite back, eyes finally meeting his. There's anger and hate flickering in your irises, but he knows it's not directed towards him. It's directed towards yourself. A weapon pointed at your own heart and soul instead of his head. "I'm old enough to think for myself, to make my own decisions. People expect it of me, but instead of using my head I follow my mother and father around and copy them in everything, playing the obedient little princess instead of developing a personality and beliefs of my own. It took a man beating me half to death in front of his men to change that, to free me of the shackles I put onto my own wrists and ankles."

Your voice is sharper than a knife, colder than the permafrost up north, and your breathing is getting harsher. Gone is the sumbissive, quiet thing he pulled out of that house in the middle of the night. "I did everything to apease my parents, to be the perfect princess in their eyes, in everyones eyes. I loved what they loved, hated what they hated, and did what they did. And for what? To be sold off like an animal to a slaughterhouse?"

A scoff escapes your lips, an unladylike sound that you would've never let yourself make before. He guesses you stopped caring. There are many unladylike noises that you've probably made while laying in your own blood, cowering from the man who was supposed to protect and cherish you.

"That's what I meant when I said that they will send me back. I had the help of two of the servant girls. They smuggled letters out for me and sent them off to my parents, but no answer ever came. The only reason why I got out is because you somehow knew that something was wrong and wrongfully assumed it was an opportunity for you to gain glory."

He doesn't mention that he knew of your predicament because one of your letters ended up with him on accident, nor does he disrupt you for any other reasons. This is the most you've spoken since he dragged you out of that forsaken house in Djelholm and smuggled you out of the city. It would be insane to cut you off now and risk never hearing of your thoughts and opinions ever again.

"It's ridiculous. Even if a miracle happens and I don't get sent back immediately, they will simply betroth me to someone else from Fjerda, like that's somehow going to fix the years of tension between our countries. I will never be safe again. I will never be allowed to stay here. I will never be free the way I was before all this. I didn't even realise how privileged I was."

There is a way to save you from that fate. Several, actually, but one of them would play right into his hands if he simply played his cards right.

Aleksander suggests it two days before they reach Os Alta while they sit in the carriage.

He doesn't do anything special, doesn't prepare anything or bothers to give a speech. It would be filled with lies and manipulation anyways, and you would probably be able to tell. He hasn't officially accepted your apology for your past behaviours, after all. He just says what he wants you to do, nothing more.

"Marry me."

Your head whips up, attention dragged away from the book you had been reading.

"What?"

He smiles. "Marry me."

The carriage is currently driving through a town, the noise of children playing and people talking filling the silence between you two.

"Why?" You finally ask, suspicion barely hidden in your body language.

He has many reasons to make a suggestion like this, of course. Tying himself to someone, an otkazat'sya no less, is incredibly risky for him, after all. It needs to be thought through carefully, which he has.

Aleksander feels like he has done nothing else other than think since your rescue.

You're popular with the people, ravkas beautiful rose, kind and sweet and obedient. If the commoners found out what happened to you, what your parents knowingly put you through with this betrothal, they would riot in the streets. It would only get worse if they found out that they sent you away from your lover.

The story basically writes itself. It would be easy to plant rumours amongst the merchants and peasants, make them believe that you were in love with him and planned to run off with him, knowing that the king and queen would never allow for your love to flourish. That your parents found out and sent you away for a betrothal to a harsh and violent man as a punishment. That he saved you because he loved you so deeply, marrying you on the road back to the Grand Palace in a small chapel, hoping that the marriage will tie your souls together forever even if he gets killed for disobeying the wishes of the king and queen.

If he does it right he can claim that your father attacked you and that he killed him and the rest of the royal family to defend you, or that Fjerdans assassinated the royal family in revenge for the failed betrothal and that Aleksander somehow managed to save you, placing you on the throne, him right next to you.

He would no longer be General, then, but king consort. Your reputation should be high enough with the otkazat'sya to balance the hatred they have for him out as well. The rose of ravka would never fall for an evil man, after all.

Of course, this plan could backfire horribly. What if you hate him after he slaughters your family? What if you don't want to be queen? What if one of your relatives manages to kill you before he can kill them? He would have to claim the throne through right of conquest, and the people would hate him for it, would turn your family into martyrs and put his Grisha at even more risk.

But the risks might be worth it. He just has to be smart.

And he'd be saving you from an awful marriage. He could be a god husband to you. He could make you happy.

Probably.

Of course, he can't confess these things to you. The best way to force you to participate in his plans is if you don't know that he's planning anything at all.

"They can't send you back if you're married. You'll be mine. I'd be able to hide you away in the Little Palace, just like you wanted."

You make a face, clearly not convinced.

"They'll just order a priest to annul it or kill you to make me a widow and renew the betrothal," you warn.

"Your highness, as much as I respect the swordsmanship of the guards, I sincerely doubt that they would be able to kill me. Besides, I don't think that they would be able to betroth you to a fjerdan man after we consummate the marriage."

The book you've been reading drops to the floor of the carriage with a quiet thump, but you don't even notice that it has left your grasp, your full, undivided attention on him.

You're probably trying to discern if he's serious, and if you should slap him for even suggesting something like this.

"There's a chapel in this town, and a small tavern right next to it," he murmurs after a while, offering his hand to you, "It wouldn't be like the royal wedding you probably dreamed of, but you would be safe. I swear it. I protect what is mine."

He watches you swallow, traces the movement with his gaze, gleeful at the visible effect his proposal has on you. He can see the temptation in your eyes, the battle you're fighting in your head.

Are you willing to go behind your parents' backs to marry him? Are you willing to become the Darklings wife, to carry his children?

You grab his hand slowly, the look in your eyes vulnerable.

His smile widens when his fingers wrap around yours, his hand moving to knock against the wood of the carriage to get it to stop.