#Morozova's collar

[stromuprisahat]

Once again, we've talked about how could Alina never realistically survive in army, due to her lack of respect and obedience.

Which could offer interesting AU, where her powers aren't discovered while crossing the Fold, but when she's being hanged. How would status of constantly insubordinate soldier influence her new position of Sun Summoner?!

She'd probably get the collar ASAP. Can't have someone unreliable by default trained and uncontrollable...

[dreamsandconstellations]

I think what bothers me the most about the new Shadow and Bone season is the fact that they reference the stag collar but at no point do they show Alina wearing it 🤔🤔🤔🤔

[kasagia]

Between the bookshelves

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! non-grisha! reader Summary: It was so easy for you to fall for the Black General. It took him one visit to the library in the Grand Palace to catch your eye and make you fantasise about him - a dangerous, mysterious ancestor of the Black Heretic. But that was all that could happen between you two... fantasy, daydreaming, or dreaming at midnight in the privacy of your chamber. He was the strongest of all Grishas, and you… you were just a librarian woman. But maybe your fantasies and huge/little crush on Darkling can turn into something much more? Requested by: @dreampissybaby It took me ages, but I hope you'll like it! 😅🩵🖤 Word Count: 8,2k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You put the books on the shelves, staring at the landscape outside the window. It was winter. The snow fell slowly, glistening in the sunlight. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the shadows slowly taking over the part of the library you were in. It was only when they blocked the view through the window, creating a black curtain, that you realised you were no longer alone.

You squealed, surprised, as your back was suddenly turned to the shelf and pinned against it as a certain man crashed his lips into yours hungrily, giving you no time to say anything.

You moaned into General Kirigan's mouth and tangled your hands in his snow-covered hair as he held you trapped between his strong, well-built body and the bookshelf, tasting you greedily with a passion you had never felt before. And each brush of his lips against yours only felt more intense.

"I was thinking about you for a whole blody month. I couldn't sit through a single meeting without thinking about those enticing lips and the things I want to do to you when I finally return." he whispers, kissing your forehead.

He strokes your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs and studies your face carefully, looking for any changes that may have occurred in the month he's been away.

"You came back earlier. I didn't even hear any sounds of horses from the courtyard or whispers among the maids that you were back with your Grishas." you say, stroking his hair messed by the air. You notice that he still has a few snowflakes in them and giggle at how this dangerous man looks so cute with the snow in his hair, black cloak, and red nose.

"I could have left Ivan in charge of the rest and set off earlier myself. They should be here tomorrow. I left them as I saw the walls of Little Palace, and actually, I saw them in the distance from the tower when I was running here." he admits, and you're pretty sure the blush on his cheeks isn't due to the change in temperature. However, you decided to ignore it and not tease him about his obvious embarrassment.

"Come. We need to warm you up. We wouldn't want the general to get sick and be more grumpy to his soldiers only because he wanted to see a girl earlier."

"But what a beauty she is."

Before you can even answer him, his now slightly warmer lips crash against yours, stealing your breath. You moan as he pushes you onto the windowsill. Your back, cushioned by his hand, hits the cool window as he kisses you, as if trying to make up for the month of separation with his one (or maybe more) kiss.

"Next time, I'm taking you with me so I can claim what's mine whenever I want." he pulls away for a moment to whisper before capturing your lips again. You smile, pulling him closer to you by the black fur on his coat.

"Aleksander..." you moan as your lips part and his hand travels under your dress, caressing your leg and making you shiver, both from the cold air and the electric touch of his skin on yours.

"So distracting, so teasing... my little Otkazat'sya, who is constantly occupying my every thought when I should be focusing on the possible war to come. The saints know you will be my sweet undoing."

Your hands land on the collar of his kefta under his coat, and you slowly move them along his chest, unbuttoning his kefta and shirt. You are caressing every newly exposed bit of his skin with your hands, not ashamed of the desire to touch, and caressing every single part of your general...

"Your man came here." your colleague taps you on the shoulder, taking you out of your 'reading', and nods towards the main aisle.

You turn your gaze away from the book, which was only your excuse anyway, thanks to which you could freely indulge in your fantasies. You take a quick glance at the general.

"Shush!" you hiss at her, checking if the general didn't hear her. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that his attention was completely focused on the bookshelves. "He might have heard you. Besides, he's not my man."

"You better tell him that. Every time he comes here, he asks specially about you. That means something." she teases you as you put the book back on the shelf.

"That means nothing. It's just that I know most of the books on military tactics from my father and brother, so only from me he can find out where exactly it is. I doubt anyone else in this library would understand which book he's looking for." you brush her comment off and walk over to the general, who was looking at the titles of the books on the shelves.

"Good morning. How can I help you this time, general?" you smile politely, trying to fight the stupid fluttering of your heart you had around him. As well as the dirty thoughts that tormented you about this unfairly handsome man.

You thanked saints every time you talked to him, for that he wasn't a heartrender and couldn't hear your traitorous, stupid heart racing fast each time you were in his presence.

You take a moment to study his face, noticing that the dark circles under his eyes have increased slightly over the course of the week. His eyes, although still shining in their characteristic, even mischievous way, are cloudier and more tired. And if you could, you would comfort this over-busy man, or at least try to provide him with some sense of comfort.

But you can't. All you can do is watch him from a distance.

So you do so. You study every bit of his face carefully, allowing yourself to do so when he talks to you about a book, and you pretend to listen to him, right after you heard the title of the familiar book he was looking for.

After all, you didn't want to waste his time… or give him any suspicion that you were taking every possible moment to admire him.

You know that your infatuation and dreams are stupid and that nothing more will ever happen between you two than a polite conversation and maybe the exchange of a few observations about books. But you can't help but imagine how wonderful it would be to kiss his tempting lips, cup his bearded cheek in your hand, or run your hand through his dark brown hair.

Just as his soft voice is no longer heard in your ears, you come back to reality, and it takes all your strength to look away from his too-perfect (for your stupid heart's sake) face and focus on the books on the shelves.

"This is a basic position. You should have it in your book collections." you say, running your finger along the spines of the books and looking for the one he needs.

If you had turned around at that moment, you would have seen a blush spreading across his cheeks as he looked around nervously and cleared his throat, trying to think of an excuse.

"To be honest... my personal library is not kept in such an... order. It's much easier and faster to come here. A nice company is also an additional benefit, as also the opportunity to break away from reports, plans, and other annoying papers."

"And here I thought that soldiers usually kept order around themselves. Especially the general of the whole army." you tease him with a smile and hand him the book he was looking for. His fingers brush against yours briefly, making you shiver.

"I found it hard to keep everything in order in the thought process. Especially lately when so many things which are on my head."

"So I guess your library is pretty messy." you smile as you hear his soft chuckle after your comment.

Everything about this man was ethereal. Starting with his appearance and ending with the way he carried himself. With pride and power radiating from him, which made everyone show respect, awe and fear for him.

Some invisible electric force was pulling you towards him—something inexplicable that only a few people could resist. And you definitely weren't one of them.

Like a moth to a flame. - you think mockingly, knowing that everything he represented was darkness and danger. But you could see more than his shadows. Something that didn't let you put him out of your mind so easily.

"That's putting it mildly." he says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You lick your lips and nod, laughing a bit.

"Maybe you should find someone who will clean up this mess for you. It would be a shame if the general of the Second Army got lost under the piles of his own books." you say, expecting to hear another burst of laughter from him.

But that didn't happen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, as if he was searching your eyes for some kind of answer. You stared, hypnotised, into his dark irises until he finally saw something in your eyes that made him take a step towards you.

"Are you offering?" he whispers, making you shiver as you try to hold his intense gaze.

The fact that he's close enough that you can smell his cologne, his intoxicating scent, and his warmth, which is nothing like your fantasies, makes it even harder for you to string together a coherent sentence.

"Maybe I am." you whisper back, not sure if he understood it as a statement or a question.

But judging by the way he leaned towards you, slowly closing the distance between you and your lips with each small movement, you think he rather understood your intentions...

And just when you think he's finally going to end this torment—when he's going to lean down and catch your lips in a passionate, tender kiss and pin you to the bookshelves like he already did in your dreams, too many times for you to remember—you two hear somebody calling him.

You are the first to break eye contact, shift your gaze to the shelves next to you, and step away from him, even though every cell in your body screams with the need to be close to him.

"It looks like I have to go." he says. It clears your throat and catches your eye again. His dark eyes are focused entirely on you as he decides to make his move and adds, "I shall be waiting for you tonight if you are still offering your help. I could really use it." he says, ignoring the footsteps approaching the alley.

"Well, I shall meet you then, general." you answer instantly and with a little flirtatious tone before you can think about it or get scared and change your mind.

He gives you such a wonderful, charming smile that it convinces you that he was created by the saints themselves. Your heart skips a beat as he leans down and presses a such gentle kiss to your hand that you have to focus very much to feel his lips on your skin.

"I shall be expecting you then, milaya." he says, and you think he winks at you before turning around just as one of his Grishas comes into view.

They walk away together quickly, the man explaining something to him in a hurry, but all you see is him stealing a quick glance at you before disappearing around the bend into the main alley.

"Milaya?" you whisper to yourself, frowning.

And before you can think it through, you rush to the old Ravkan dictionaries to find this concrete word he used, ready to endure your friend's teasing when you tell her you think you have a date with the general of the Second Army.

"I told you I didn't want to be disturbed." he says slightly angry, after they return from the training field, where the young Inferni have started a fight with the Squallers and started a damn fire. Aleksander frowned as he felt the soot harden on the sleeve of his kefta.

"My apologies, General, but that was an important matter." Grisha, who interrupted his conversation with Y/N, explains himself as they enter his chambers, straight to the war room.

"Next time, you can only come to me if a Little Palace is set on fire, not some field. And even then, it will be better if you find some tidemaker to extinguish the fire. Understand, Captain?" he asks madly and sits down at his desk. He sighs when he sees the new papers that Ivan must have delivered to him in his absence.

"Yes, sir." he sees Grisha nods nervously. He rubs his eyes and sighs, seeing that his hands are also black with soot.

"Bring Fedyor here. And Ivan. I need someone reasonable." he mutters and gets up to go to the bathroom and get rid of any traces of fighting the fire. "And make sure the kids show up for their night training with Baghra. That should calm them down and keep them busy... at least for a while."

Grisha salutes him and leaves as quickly as he can. Aleksander rolls his eyes and looks in the mirror, cleaning his face. He returns to his desk and looks over the reports Ivan brought. After a few minutes, his heartrenders appear.

"You wanted to see us, sir." Ivan says this, standing in front of his desk. Fedyor is next to him, looking at the general. He frowns at seeing the messy state he is in.

"I have a task for you." he says, and he signs some orders. "First of all, please explain to me how the Little Palace was almost set on fire when I was only a few minutes away?" Ivan swallows and wants to say something, but Fedyor comes first.

"Zoya is on a mission. The kids felt too... carefree in someone else's care. But I assure you, General, that after today, it is unlikely to happen again. I heard them say on their way here that they had never been so afraid in their lives. Besides, they're just kids. Good thing the tidemakers were close. As soon as Zoya returns, she will definitely teach them a life lesson."

He nods, deciding to deal with this matter another time. "Were you able to gather the information I needed, Fedyor?"

"Yes, sir. Y/F/F. These flowers are waiting in the conservatory; you can pick them up and give them to her whenever you want." before Aleksander can scold him for making such bold assumptions, Fedyor continues. "Oh, right, I forgot. David is finishing the necklace you ordered. With her favourite gem, of course. But we have a serious problem, General. People are talking."

"They always talk. What exactly do they have in mind this time?" he clears his throat, trying to ignore how the heartrender so easily suggests his blatant infatuation of Y/N. He decides to remain silent. After all, Fedyor was the best... informant regarding Y/N. And his help was necessary in this case...

Although he liked Ivan's company more, it was Fedyor who was mainly responsible for them both being together, and that means he was more useful in his little mission. How two heartrenders got together—even Darkling didn't know exactly—but he desperately needed all of Fedyor's advice after his own attempts to woo you had failed.

He may have been handsome and had many women vying for his attention, but since Luda... he hadn't really courted anyone. No one was important enough. No one had broken through the wall of his heart created by Luda's death. When he decided that he had buried too many people close to him to endure another death, another loss.

And then you appeared. An ordinary human, not even Grisha. And he fell for you fast, hard, and suddenly, and despite his better judgement, he gave in to this need to be in your presence. And every day, he wanted much more. Irronicaly, he was too nervous around you to finally make a move. Or at least one that will be clear to you and provide him with your… reciprocity of his feelings.

And Fedyor had too much fun helping him to 'get a girl'. Just like teasing the general, who put up with his taunts as long as his advice worked. At least Ivan was here to stop his lover when he walked on the thin line of the general's patience.

"They are… interesting why our general is so often a guest in the Grand Palace… a library, to be precise."

"And? Is it something wrong? Can't I use Ravka's book resources?

It was a weak excuse. Aleksander knew this. But she won't admit his feelings... especially not to Fedyor.

"It's not like I'm going there just to look at her." he adds, mumbling under his breath as his attention is fully focused on the report in front of him. He wanted to finish this as soon as possible to prepare for your visit.

"And with all due respect, moi soverenyi, what exactly are you doing there?"

Aleksander hears Ivan kick Fedyor in the ankle as Heartrender asks him this question. He smiles to himself and finishes writing the last report.

"None of your worries." he says and hands the completed papers with his directions and orders to Ivan. "I'm unavailable for the rest of the day. Only matters of the utmost importance, and I only accept these messages from you two; keep any incompetent soldiers away from me; I had enough of them today."

His thoughts wander back to that moment where he almost managed to kiss Y/N. If it weren't for that damn soldier… his mind wanders to all the possibilities of how his visit could end.

"It really worked? She comes here?" Aleksander wonders if he should be offended by the incredulous tone he used.

"She is. That's why I hope I won't be disturbed anymore. At least not with trivial matters that can be taken care of without my interference and that I can find out about the next morning."

"Does she know she's staying until the morning, sir?"

"Fedyor." Ivan hisses at him, furious, unsure how much longer the general can take it.

Aleksander swallows, embarrassed. He can't help but wonder if you'll be as willing as he is to extend your overnight visit into the next day… or two.

"General, your heart is beating faster. Do you need any help?"

Fedyor smiles, half-malicious, half-happy to see the general melt at every thought of you. You completely swept him off his feet, and he didn't even have a second to defend himself. It was refreshing to see him so... lost in his feelings for you.

"Ivan, get your other half out of my sight before I send him to West Ravka, right through the fold, without any light or Inferni with him." Fedyor tries his hardest to stop smiling at his words. Ivan covers him and nods respectfully to the general.

"Yes, moi soverenyi."

As the door closes behind them, Fedyor laughs softly at Ivan. "Who would have thought that he of all people would choose Otkazat'sya? The one who never stayed around non-Grishas longer than necessary?"

"Do not be stupid. He definitely needs her for something else."

"You yourself heard his heartbeat. He fell head-over-heels. I have to tell Genya to make him a new kefta... preferably two, one male and one female, matching, you know, just in case."

Fedyor smiles as he sees people cleaning the corridors of the Little Palace. Their general was so obvious about his feelings that it hurt. The opinion of a heartless general effectively covered up his obvious actions.

"Why? She's not a Grisha. The general knows better than to pursue her."

"My dear, in the state our general is in now, he hardly cares about the fact that she doesn't have any powers. Besides, I know of marriages between Otkazat'sya and Grishas. There are few of them, but thanks to the sharing of life energy, the couple lives happily ever after, as long as Grisha's one doesn't die."

"Marraige? Don't go that far into the future. Even if he feels something for her, he will get over it."

"You will remember my words when he asks you to be his best man. Come on, honey, let's see what we can do for our general." Fedyor laughs and pulls Ivan towards the conservatory.

You walk through the corridors of the Little Palace, led by one of the Oprichniks, to the general's chambers. You feel weird coming here. He was usually the one who always visited you. At different times of the day in the library.

Involuntarily, you remember one of his rare nighttime visits.

You were alone in the library. You sat curled up in an armchair by the fire with a blanket around you.

You liked spending evenings in the library. It was completely silent then; you could listen to the crackling of the burning wood and get completely lost in your book.

However, lately, your thoughts have been turning more and more often around a certain general of the Second Army. Hence the book that was on your lap. "The Lives of Saints."

You've read most of the books about Grishas. About how they use their powers. About their little science. They fascinated you. Like Kirigan. At first, you were afraid of the general. He was, after all, a Black General, a descendant of the Black Heretic. But there was something... defenceless about him. Humane. Not identifying with the terrible legend circulating about him. And that little element of the common human in him drew you to this mysterious man.

You smirk to yourself as you hear the quiet footsteps you've learned to recognise as he lets you hear that he's close. You remember quite vividly how you shouted at him when he snuck up on you and almost dropped the stack of books you were holding. You don't know who was more surprised then—you or him.

"A little late for a night visit." you say, closing your book and shifting your gaze to the man walking towards you.

The smile disappears from your face when you see that he has dark bags under his eyes and is much paler than usual.

"Do I look that bad?" he asks with a laugh at your reaction. The blush on his cheeks and his less confident step make it clear that he didn't take your behaviour as carelessly as he showed.

"You look like death. What happened?" you ask, worried as he sits down in the armchair across from you.

"Tough week. I will be good. I had to come here. I... I haven't looked here for a while."

Little did you know that he wanted to say that he hadn't come for you. That he didn't come to check on you even though he wanted to, but he just didn't have time. That he had been watching you at every opportunity, hiding in the shadows. He was stopping at the library to simply look at you each time the king called him to confer with him about a possible war with the Fjerdans, which thankfully he had managed to avoid.

Now that the vision of Grishas' blood being spilled was no longer hanging over his head, he had come here—to the only shelter he had in this forgotten by the saints country on even a world.

He came to you.

"I noticed." you say and give him such a beautiful, comforting smile that this week of fighting against the king and the general of the First Army is worth the price of his nerves, sleepless nights, and the effort he put into avoiding war. This smile is a sufficient reward for all his efforts to maintain peace and security.

For Grishas, his mind screamed; he did it for his people.

For you, whispered a small voice in his head, coming from the remains of his shattered over the centuries heart. He did this to keep you safe—the only piece of his humanity he allowed himself to have. The only ramains of a man he used to be.

"You did?" he asks, swallowing. He watches you carefully, assessing your every little move and reaction.

He doesn't trust you yet... but he feels that he is getting closer to completely losing himself in your presence, which is soothing his battered soul like anything else in this world, and the warmth that radiates from you. If he didn't know you, he would think you were Inferni.

"Mhm..." you nod and start telling him about a book you read recently that he might have liked.

And he really wants to listen to you. Your voice soothed his frayed nerves and calmed the anxiety he had felt over the past few days, but as soon as he allows himself, as his head rests against the armchair, he begins to feel tired as well. And your wonderful voice, the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the familiar smell of your perfume mixed with the smell of books lull him to sleep better than any lullaby.

You smiled, watching him relax in the chair and slowly fall asleep. You quietly got up from your seat and walked over to the fireplace to add a log to the fire. You took the blanket you covered yourself with and walked over to Kirigan.

Just as you were about to cover him, a strong pair of arms swept you off your feet, leaving you in the general's lap while he snuggled into you.

“So warm…” you blush when you hear his half-asleep whisper, but you don't question his actions.

You cover the two of you with a blanket, and after he settles his head comfortably on your shoulder, with his nose gently nuzzling your neck, you can't help but run a hand through his hair. And you almost moan at how soft they are. If you could, you would stroke him at every chance you got. But now you just leave a light kiss on his temple, trying to fight the hope rising in your chest, which tells you that maybe your feelings aren't so hopeless and unreciprocable after all.

Because what other reason could there be for this man, who was completely out of your league and who is currently clinging to you like it's the most normal thing in the world, than that he has feelings for you?

As if this strong, powerful man needed a shelter and could find it only in your arms...

You never talked about that night, nor did it ever happen again, but it was one of your favourite memories with him.

Surprisingly, he always hits your shifts. And you wanted to believe that it wasn't a coincidence that you two met so often.

And that milaya... he didn't call every woman a sweet girl, did he? No. There had to be at least a hint of attraction in him for you. And you were so desperate for him that you would take any scrap of affection he gave you—any chance to see how it would really be to be loved by him. Even if this closeness was to last only for one night.

He was nervous.

The hundreds-year-old shadow summoner was nervous. And not with the upcoming fight, battle, and important meeting with the king, in which he had to use all his manipulation techniques and lies.

He was nervous before meeting with you.

Baghra would laugh at him and beat him for being distracted by mortals. For letting his stupid heart take control again and naively allowing himself to feel something for a woman who would pass so quickly that he wouldn't have time to blink.

But does that stop him? Of course not. He always takes a losing cause and always makes bad choices.

But how could he not, when you were the only light that had appeared in a very long time that he spent utterly alone in the darkness of his war room, still planning and still thinking about how to provide all Grishas with a safe future in which they wouldn't worry about their lives anymore? How could he just ignore you when you were lightening brighter than the sun summoner herself?

A gentle knock on the door sent a shiver of both excitement and fear through him.

You were already here.

"Come in." he says, trembling with anticipation as he waits for you to enter his chambers for the first time.

However, his face grew grumpy when, instead of your silhouette in some beautiful (preferably black) dress, he saw Fedyor enter his chambers.

"What are you doing here? And what is that all for?" he asks, confused, as Fedyor places a vase with a bouquet of your favourite flowers on his war table, a basket with wine and delicacies you like, and goes to light more candles in the room.

"Things that will come in handy. Good night, General."

Fedyor leaves before he can react. He stares at the room for a moment and laughs to himself, shaking his head. You were going to be his undoing. People will see how... soft he is getting because of you. But somehow it doesn't bother him, at least as long as the prospect of holding you in his arms was within his reach thanks to it. He would put up with Fedyor's banter and whispered gossip within the ranks of the Second Army if it meant having you by his side.

The soft creak of his door draws his attention. His gaze is fully focused on the entrance, his breath catching in his throat as he waits to be blessed with the sight of you. Maybe he could afford this one weakness? To allow himself a moment of blissful peace in the constant, lonely war that he waged for the safety of every Grisha.

The curse almost leaves his mouth when someone else appears instead of you. This time, Alina. In a nightgown, loose hair, and an uncertain expression on her face. And although he really needed her in his plans, he couldn't help but damn her for her timing. It looked like he didn't deserve time free from his duties.

"Alina? How can I help you?" he asks instead, glancing briefly at the clock and wondering how politely and quickly he can dismiss her so that you won't see her leaving on your way to his chambers.

Ironically, what Alina would think about his encounter with you at night didn't matter to him at all. But it should be the other way around. After all, he was going to seduce her and use her power for his plans.

You weren't supposed to mean that much to him.

And yet he was there, standing in front of the Sun Summoner he had dreamed to find for so long, but now he was only wondering how to get rid of her.

"Am I... disturbing you?"

As always, he thought, but quickly shook his head.

"Not at all. What's the matter?" he asks in a polite tone, trying not to get irritated by the way she looks around his chambers. Her cheeks blush slightly, and her eyes glow in the candlelight.

He wonders how you will react to the scenery Fedyor has created. Maybe he should light more candles? Or dust off his old record player and put a record of slow, classical music in it. He knew it would help him. Many times, he caught you dancing alone in the abandoned alley of the library. There were many times when he joined you so that you wouldn't have to dance with the air... although the main reason that encouraged him was the opportunity to hold you in his arms.

He doesn't pay attention to what Alina is saying to him. He only catches the way she says his name, and he can't help but let his thoughts fly to you again.

Considering how often he was in this library, he should have known by now where to look for the books he wanted. However, he was glad that none of the librarians commented on it, and they immediately showed him where he could find you.

However, the reputation of a cruel Grishas' general had its benefits. No one dared to question him.

As he walks through the library, he smiles and thinks about you. How you weren't afraid to put him in his place when you didn't like something.

At first you were just a means to an end, then a pretty thing to look at, then over time you became a challenge, and now... he couldn't go a day without seeing your face or hearing your voice.

He swallowed and shook his head. NO. He didn't fall that low. Not for an ordinary woman, a mortal.

A mocking voice in his head that closely resembles Baghra's words mocks him as he tries to deceive himself. How weak he is.

And he would probably have turned back and tried to save his naive heart if he hadn't heard a familiar, slow song playing from the gramophone.

He froze, watching you dance to the piano sounds coming from the record player, and put the books back on the shelves, rearranging them in order. The skirt moved with your movements, and he wanted nothing more than to place his hands on your waist and pull you as close to him as possible, letting his hands trace your curves as he stared into your eyes.

So he did. Allowing himself to do what he wanted and forgetting for a moment what he should have done.

He walks over to you quietly and places his hands on your waist, turning you towards him and lowering you, keeping his hand on your back in reassurance that he won't let go of you.

"Kirigan!" you scream at him, scared by his sudden action.

You cling to him, and he might have laughed at your adorable reaction if the fake name he gave himself didn't feel like a slap in the face when you said it. And then, as you stare at each other without saying a word, he realises that he wants the only name that leaves your wonderful, tempting lips to be his real one.

"Please... call me Aleksander." he whispers, and somehow this was something more intimate and meaningful than all the flowers and furtive glances you had received for him. Than all the talks you have had. Than all the kisses on the hand, cheek, and hugs you had exchanged.

"Aleksander." you say back, whispering it, like it was something sacred.

His heart sinks further. It does a flip when he hears how gently you say his real name, the name he kept away from the world and close to his heart, only for himself.

He makes himself vulnerable to you.

And instead of freaking out, all he can do is look at you as if you were his only anchor, keeping him sane in his crazy life full of worries, fear, and anxiety. Your eyes shine up at him, reminding him of the stars—the stars that for a long time have guided him in his darkness and made him blind to everything else around him but you.

He was cursed. There was no turning back. He knew it the moment he heard his real name on your lips. And if it weren't for the damn pile of books falling with a loud bang, causing him to go into defence mode and hide you behind him, he would have kissed you right there and then.

He remembers perfectly that day. And he cursed every moment you decided not to use it. As if he cared who might hear it. As long as it came out of your alluring lips, he didn't care who heard it. He knew it would be the end of him to hear you scream it loud in the darkness of his chambers.

He doesn't notice when Alina approaches him. Or when she places her hand on his. At least not until a ball of light appears around them. He looks fascinated by Alina's possibilities and her power.

Alina leans towards him. His gaze shifts to her. He wonders if he should let her kiss him. But then the image of you comes to his mind, and he knows he has no choice but to push her away. He can't do this. Not when he knows he could be kissing you; taste your lips on his instead of hers. And the realisation makes him even more aware of how hopelessly he has fallen for you. To reject the Sun Summoner herself.

And that's when he notices you standing in the doorway.

"Y/N? Y/N, wait!" he pushes Alina's hand away and shouts after you as you walk away, closing the door.

He leaves a confused Alina speechless as he runs after you. When he's in the hallway, he sees no sign of you. He curses, realising what an uncomfortable situation you found him in with the sun summoner.

This will be difficult for him to explain. But damn him if he doesn't try his best.

"Don't." he stops his oprichniki from chasing you. You needed a moment for yourself. He knows that chasing after you would only make things worse... even if that was all he wanted to do right now. "Just make sure she will come back safetly to her chamber. If something happens to her, you will suffer the consequences. Understood?"

"Yes, general."

"That's all." they bow to him and leave. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Aleksander?" Alina's hand is on his shoulder as she turns him to face her.

And maybe, if they had met a few years earlier—before he met you—he would have allowed himself to take the opportunity to get the sun summoner for himself. But now... all he wants is you.

"You should go back to your chamber." he says coldly, returning to his room.

Only to take his black kefta. Just because he couldn't talk to you doesn't mean he couldn't watch you to make sure you were okay. Maybe, thanks to you, he will figure out how to explain all this to you.

You were stupid. And naive.

You think angrily as you clean the library floor with a broom. If anyone noticed that you started cleaning again as a way to release your negative emotions, they did not comment on it. And good. You were a ticking bomb today.

Honestly, you could have seen it coming. Him and the Sun Summoner. They were perfect for each other. In every book, they would end up together, and you would just be a supporting character.

The less important one.

It's good that you realised this before you let yourself do with him something stupid, before you got to know how his lips tasted, how it was to lay with his arms around you... Although... you guess he got under your skin and into your everyday life too deeply for you to simply forget about him.

Especially when he wouldn't leave you alone.

"You can't avoid me." he says, walking out of the alley. You almost run into him with a broom and for a moment, you feel the urge to hit him with it. But then you remember that you didn't actually promise each other anything. You were nothing to him. Only a librarian. An ordinary person. At best, a friend.

"I'm not." you say it coldly and try to move past him.

"You are." he says, blocking your way. You lift your head to look at him defiantly. All he does is grab your hands and take the broom out of your hands. You suddenly feel vulnerable… as if the broom could somehow protect you from the shadow summoner and your feelings for him. "Please. I just want to talk."

"How can I help you, general?" you ask him in an emotionless tone.

He sighs, but you can see from the look in his eyes that he won't give up that easily. But you also don't want to get involved in something that is doomed to failure. Men like them didn't end up with women like you. Not with someone so… ordinary.

"That's not how it looked like."

"No? You seemed… quite enjoyed your closeness to her. Besides, it is not my business. You can do whatever you want. With whoever… If you don't need my help finding a book, then I should go now."

"No, wait. Please." he grabs your arm and takes a step towards you, refusing to let you just walk away from him.

"Do you call her milaya too?" you can't help but ask him this question in a tone full of resentment, anger, and bitterness.

His reaction surprises you. Instead of responding to your ridiculous jealousy with anger or a comment as cruel as yours, he… smiles. The bastard has the nerve to enjoy how bad you feel.

"Nevermind. Just…forget about it." you say, trying to break free from his grip, but he won't let you go—not even a step away.

After a moment, you feel him pressing you against the bookshelves. His nose brushes lightly against yours, and your lips are closer together than ever. He breathes heavily, his dark, almost black eyes staring into yours as he tries to stop himself from simply kissing every thought that isn't him out of you. You look at him, waiting; you don't know what. Every inner moral battle in him is settled by your quiet whisper:

"Aleksander?"

He's losing it. All the control he had gained over hundreds of years. He leans down and connects your lips in a long-awaited kiss. At first, he tries to be slow and gentle. He caresses your cheek affectionately and carefully places his hand on your waist.

Your moan changes all his plans.

He grips your waist tighter, bringing you as close to him as possible. He tangles his other hand in your hair, deepening the kiss and taking in all your whimpers. And Aleksander, for the first time in his long life, feels like he's in heaven.

By simply touching you. By simply kissing you.

He pushes away all his thoughts about breaking you and about defiling your sweet and pure person with his darkness. But he can't stop.

Not when you respond so eagerly to his kisses. Not when you pull him as close to you as possible by his hair and kefta. Not when he feels the same lust and desire for you that he has for you. Not when his wildest dreams are coming true.

He pulls away as he feels you slowly running out of air. He gives you just enough space to breathe but still stays as close to you as he can, resting his forehead against yours and pressing a kiss there. Both of his hands roam over your figure, and he curses at how delicate and otherworldly you feel under his fingertips. Like you always should have belonged right here, in his arms, in his hands.

The saints created you for him as his eternal trouble, as his baine of existence. To sweep him off his feet. To question any decisions he ever made. To prove to him that all his plans will be ruined and that his priorities don't matter when it comes to choosing between them and you.

"I… I want… I want it to be your business. I want you to care about me… just as I care about you too, moya milaya. My one and only." he whispers, pulling away from you enough that he can look into your eyes.

He strokes your cheek tenderly, deciding he doesn't want to spend another second missing you, your touch, and your presence. Holding himself back from kissing and chereshing you as you should be.

"And how can you possibly care about me? I'm… just me. Otkazat'sya. I can't summon the sun, shadows, or anything. I can't heal or manipulate hearts. I can't composite materials such as metal, glass, textiles, and chemicals. I'm not Grisha. I'm nothing special."

"Do you think I don't know it? Do you think that meant anything to my stupid heart the day I first saw you? That after our first conversation, I gave a damn about anything, but how is your laugh so hypnotic? How can I simply spend the day just looking at you or listening to your sweet voice, talking excitedly about every single book you've read? I know it makes no sense, but... isn't that what it looks like? How is it supposed to be? To fall for someone even knowing that you shouldn't? Even knowing that it's something doomed to fall from the beginning?"

"I suppose that's not how a love confession should look like, Aleksander." you laugh a little and hearing his name on your lips again gives him hope that he needs to fully open up.

"Maybe not. But we are not in the story. I speak from my heart, with my own words, because… nothing I ever knew can be compared to what I feel for you since the time we know each other. You attracted me at first, but… with time, I understand it isn't just some attraction. It is something deeper. More personal. You understand me like no one else has before, so don't stand there and pretend there is no special link between us, because this… this is everything that keeps me sane. With so many wars I have to fight, so many plans I have to put into action, and so many sacrifices I have to make… I shouldn't think about you… and yet it is everything I can do each time I leave your presence. You became a part of me… best part of me that I have ever had. And I know I will probably lose you in time, but… I can't imagine being without you. To go my day without speaking to you, seeing you, or laughing with you. And if you let me… I would like to keep you close for as long as I can. As long as you will have me."

He says all of this while looking at you with so much earnestness and passion that you have a hard time saying no to him or entering into his speech.

He sees your doubts. And he's so afraid of them that he decides to kiss you again, to try to bribe you, to make up your mind in his favour with the feeling of his lips on yours.

This time, you pull him in, placing your hands around his neck. He shivers as you play with the strands of his hair, and he knows that if he doesn't get you, the only ray of light in his grey existence, he has nothing to lose. Nothing will stop him from becoming a monster.

"I'm not so... open-hearted. Time taught me to keep my feelings to myself. But with... with you, I feel like the man I used to be. And I really like to be him again with you by my side."

"And... what about Alina?" you ask hesitantly, unable to get used to the idea that he might be… that he might choose you.

"You are the only one I can see." he whispers. He steals another kiss from you. This time, he presses you closer to him. You feel his muscular body under his kefta pressing against you, and you feel yourself slowly turning into putty in his hands. The bastard grins gladly as he feels you trembling.

"But for how long?" you try to hold on to one last rational thought before the warmth of the moment you share with him overwhelms you, and you become undeniably his. However, your internal struggle is just a matter of decency. You both know who won anyway.

"Eternity." he whispers against your lips before kissing you hungrily, losing control as he finally gives in to his desires, touching and caressing you as he wants with your more than willing consent. "Mine." he murmurs into your neck, pressing kisses there, his stubble teasing your sensitive skin as you moan at the feeling of his hot lips that you've imagined more than you care to admit.

"Mine." you respond, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

Feeling his lips against you, his hands roaming over your body, caressing you, pulling you as close to him as possible, and his skin that you explore with your fingertips while unbuttoming his kefta as his shadows surround you, hiding the two of you from the sight of others who might be looking for you between the bookshelves, is making you realise that maybe, after all, you were the main character… at least in his story.

And that was all you could ever ask for.

[marvelmusing]

Longing

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the events on the Fold, you hadn’t wanted to run away from Aleksander, but the choice was made for you. Now that he’s found you, the choice is all yours. (Sun Summoner!Reader)

Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, thigh riding, fingering, oral (male receiving), virgin!reader, sub!reader, slightly mean dom!Aleksander, degradation, praise kink, semi-public sex kinda? (corporalki in the hallway knows exactly what’s happening, the walls are thin as well), sir kink, smidge of bondage (his shadows), mentions of somnophilia, aftercare.

A/N: I feel like I haven’t written Aleksander smut in forever, so I’m sorry if this isn’t very good.

My Masterlist

You can still feel him.

Sometimes you wake feeling his hands over your face, squeezing at your throat, his lips on yours. Even as you lie beside Mal in whatever run-down room you could afford for the month, before moving onto the next town.

Why won’t you admit that part of you had wanted to belong to Aleksander? Why won’t you admit that a part of you still does? That the collar around your neck feels right, it’s weight now as familiar as your own heartbeat.

The day after your escape on the Fold was a blur, even now you can’t remember it. You hadn’t wanted to leave Ravka, you didn’t want to keep running away. From your destiny, your power, the responsibilities waiting for you.

You didn’t want to keep running away from Aleksander.

But by the time you snapped out of whatever daze had seized you after seeing Aleksander fall, you were on a ship, and there was no sight of land.

Everything had happened so fast.

Aleksander had taken control of your power, using the bond created by the collar to push the Fold forward, cutting Novokribirsk in half.

The gasps of horror from the people on the skiff, and even the screams of Ravkans being torn apart by volcra, had faded into the distance as a thrill ran up your spine.

Using your power had always felt good, Grisha theory states that a Grisha’s power is the most intimate part of themselves, the very depth of their soul.

To have Aleksander reach inside you and coax out such a fearsome display of power, it made you want to drop to your knees by his feet. You wanted him to pet your head as he committed more atrocities with your light.

When he had turned to you, your knees already wavering as your chest heaved heavy breaths, you know he could see it in your eyes.

Perhaps he had been surprised by it, perhaps he would have gripped the front of your kefta and urged you down onto your knees, demanding the submission you already wanted to give him.

But Mal had interrupted, fighting through the guards, shooting at Aleksander, which had broken whatever spell you had been under.

Ivan had stopped Mal from doing any damage, and your heart had ached at the sight of your oldest friend lying choking on his own blood.

You had pleaded with Aleksander, and he had ordered Ivan to relent.

From that moment onwards, things got worse.

A bunch of criminals from Ketterdam, the same ones that had tried to kidnap you, hijacked the skiff. One of them had managed to stab Aleksander through the chest, and some nights you lie awake tracing a line down the same spot over your own chest.

You can still remember the pain that had burst through your body, tears blurring your vision as if the knife had been plunged between your own ribs, causing you to collapse. Luckily, Aleksander had survived, healing himself with merzost.

Still dizzy from the ordeal, you had been too late to stop Mal from barrelling into Aleksander, sending them both overboard. You had rushed to the side, intending on protecting them both from the volcra with your light.

But standing up made you even more dizzy, and by the time you looked over the edge your vision was swimming once again and you fell to the deck of the skiff, unconscious.

When you came to, Mal was holding you in his arms and there was a sickening wrongness itching over your skin. Where was Aleksander?

Your entire body had ached frighteningly, and when you looked down at yourself you had been expecting to find blood given the amount of pain you were in. It felt as though you had been torn apart.

That was when the daze had clouded your mind, making you unable to focus on anything as Mal had bundled a cloak over your shoulders and you had somehow made your way to a ship at Os Kervo.

Despite your longing for Aleksander, and the miserable effects of the wasting sickness, living in Novyi Zem isn’t too bad. It’s warmer than Ravka, and you find comfort in blending in with the crowds.

The boarding house you’ve been staying at over the last week is one of the slightly more comfortable ones. There’s still only one narrow bed, and a single wash basin in the corner of the room. But the mattress isn’t moth eaten, and you haven’t seen any rats yet.

One particularly warm day, you’re walking back to the boarding house with Mal when something feels off. The landlord eyes the two of you even more contemptuously than usual, and you wonder what had put him in such a mood.

It’s once Mal opens the door to your room that you receive your answer.

Aleksander sits in the corner, shrouded in shadows of his own creation, like a king on his throne. His pale, nimble fingers drum casually over the arm of the chair.

Relief fills you. He came for you.

Mal reaches for his gun, but you’re quicker, seizing his wrist and shaking your head in a warning.

“The neighbours will hear a gunshot. We can’t get in trouble.” He holds your gaze for a moment, before he regards Aleksander suspiciously.

“How did you find us?” Mal snaps.

His anger is justified, all his cautiousness, telling you not to summon, hiding your collar, and look how it had paid off.

“You leave a rather expensive trail.” Aleksander remarks smoothly.

From his hand, a collection of golden hair pins scatter over the bedside table. Your idea had worked, Aleksander had found you. His eyes meet yours, and a shiver rolls through you.

Aleksander stands from the chair, stepping into the evening light as it passes through the dirty windows. A sharp inhale shudders in your throat, your eyes widening as you look over his face. Scars. Large black scars over his face.

“What happened?” You ask him, your voice a tiny whisper.

Aleksander’s brow lifts slightly.

“Your precious tracker didn’t tell you?” He smooths his hand over his face, tracing the edge of the largest scar. “A gift I earned on the Fold.” His eyes darken suddenly. “Amongst other things.”

Mal hadn’t told you anything about that day. He always went silent or moody whenever you mentioned Aleksander.

The man in question steps closer, and Mal tenses beside you, whether that be poised to attack or to flee you’re not sure. But you simply wait for Aleksander to come to you.

“How are you finding life in hiding?”

You don’t answer, knowing he will see the truth in your eyes no matter what you tell him.

He reaches out, tugging gently at one end of the scarf curled around your neck. Slowly, he urges it to come loose, revealing the bone collar he had placed there.

The scarf drops to the floor.

“It doesn’t suit you.”

“I actually quite like the scarf.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, ever so slightly, and something burns bright in his eyes.

His fingers curl around your collar, and a full body shudder takes hold of you as his amplification reaches deep down to the core of your being. For a second your eyes glaze over, and every inch of your body tingles with power and pleasure.

Then Mal steps forward.

“Get off her.”

Aleksander glances over at him, an unimpressed expression filling his features.

“I don’t think she will enjoy that.”

Nevertheless Aleksander releases you, a smirk on his lips as you struggle to suppress a whimper at the loss of contact.

Shaking your head slightly, you force yourself to focus.

“What do you want?” You ask him, watching as he sits back down in the chair.

“The room across the hall has been booked. The tracker stays there all night. You will stay with me.”

“And if I say no?” Mal challenges him.

Aleksander regards him with a bored expression.

“Ivan is posted in the hallway. The rest of my Grisha are in the boarding house across the street.” He tilts his head, smugness in his eyes as he continues, “Perhaps you should consider that before you make any rash decisions. Regardless of how characteristic it would be of you.”

Mal’s jaw tenses.

“And in the morning?” You ask. He surveys you for a long moment, amusement touching his features, as if you had just said something funny.

“I have one condition, which I will discuss with you tonight. If you fulfil it, I will allow you both to leave unharmed.”

Mal doesn’t look pleased. He shakes his head, but you turn to him.

“Please Mal. It’s just one night.”

“A lot can happen in a night.” He says tersely, staring over your shoulder at Aleksander.

“I’ll be fine.”

Mal finally looks at you. Then he sighs.

“Fine.”

He stares at Aleksander once again, before he opens the door and leaves. You hear his footsteps move across the hall, and the door to his room opening and closing.

Then silence.

You’re alone with Aleksander, for the first time since before you crossed the Fold. Despite your attempt at being brave, your voice wavers as you ask him,

“What’s your condition?”

He rests his chin in his hand, watching you intently.

“If you can walk down the stairs tomorrow morning, by yourself, after I’m finished with you tonight, then you are free to move on your way, tracker in tow.”

Whilst he hasn’t said it explicitly, you know exactly what he means to do that would prevent you from walking tomorrow. Cheeks burning, you still feel the need to fill the silence with a stammered question.

“After you’re finished with me?” The heated look in his eyes intensifies, and your gaze drops to the floor. “I’ve never done anything like this before…”

“Look at me.” He commands, and your eyes snap to his immediately. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Come here.”

He guides you easily, large palms manoeuvring your body into whatever position he desires. He sets you in his lap, one of his thighs bracketed by yours.

Ever since his fingers had curled around the collar, your entire body has felt sensitive. Now that you can feel the warmth of his solid thigh against your aching core, you can’t prevent the whimper from escaping your throat.

“Go on then.” He urges you, a hand pressing at the small of your back. His eyes remain on yours as he leans back in the chair, and you feel yourself clench at his casual dominance. You’ve heard about what he wants you to do, but you’ve never done it before.

Experimentally, you rock your hips forward. A small hum warms your throat as a spark of pleasure tingles in your belly. It’s been so long since you’ve allowed yourself some pleasure.

You hadn’t touched yourself when you were in the First Army, too self conscious that someone else in the tent would catch you. It was only once you arrived at the Little Palace, and had your own room, that you felt able to enjoy such a luxury.

Aleksander had been a prominent feature of your fantasies when you had figured out what you liked. Silk sheets, your bare body flushed as you had climaxed around your fingers, shaking as you imagined Aleksander being the one touching you.

It was a far cry from this moment.

From the jerky motion of your hips as you whine pathetically, fully clothed and flushed with embarrassment. Aleksander studies your face with an intense expression, which has warmth prickling over your skin.

He appears to take some pity on you, and begins to direct your hips with a firm hand curled around your hip. You inhale sharply as the fabric of your slicked panties catches against your clit, and your fingers tighten their hold on his jacket.

“Oh you poor thing.” He coos, and your cheeks burn at the humiliation. “That boy hasn’t been taking care of you, has he?”

When you don’t respond, Aleksander grips a fistful of your hair in his hand and repeats sternly,

“Has he?”

You whimper.

“No. He hasn’t.” He tightens his grip and you’re quick to correct yourself, “No, he hasn’t, sir.”

He hums, and loosens his hold on your hair, sliding his fingers over your scalp and you shudder.

Gasps and whimpers fall from your lips as you slip away from reality, lost to the motion of your hips and the tingle of pain-pleasure caused by the rough fabric against your clit. You feel your cunt clench desperately around nothing, and you choke down a cry.

“That’s it, milaya.” He encourages you, and emotion wells in your chest as he continues, “Keep going. Such a needy little thing.”

The pleasure that sweeps through you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It runs through the entirety of your body, knocking a gasp from your lungs as you climax.

Whilst it’s delightful, you can’t help but whine at how empty you are, your cunt gripping on nothing.

Breathing shakily, you drop your forehead down against his shoulder. Aleksander runs his hands over your thighs.

“Now what do you say?” He prompts.

“Thank you, sir.” He presses a kiss to the side of your face, and warmth blooms in your chest.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees.”

You blink at him for a moment. Then obey, sliding from his lap, down between his legs to kneel at his feet. He looks down at you, and you’ve never felt smaller or more at home.

“Can you undo my trousers? Or will that be too complicated for you?” He asks with a dark smile that has your cheeks flushing once again.

“I can do it, sir.”

He nods, giving a silent order which you obey.

His cock all but bursts free from the confines of his boxers, and despite your nerves at the size of him you feel the urge to take him into your mouth. He pets the back of your head.

“That’s it, relax that little jaw of yours and let me into your mouth.”

Your cunt tingles with warmth at his words, and you’re encouraged to take his cock between your lips. Surprisingly, he allows you to retreat once you begin to gag.

Blinking up at him from under your lashes, you find him already staring down at you, studying your every reaction. It’s almost as if he isn’t expecting pleasure from your efforts, only entertainment as you struggle.

Brows furrowing with determination, you attempt to take more of him into your mouth. He appears amused by your response, breathing out a small laugh as he lets his head rest against the back of the chair comfortably.

You try again, and again.

The weight of him on your tongue has a buzz settle pleasantly over your body. Aleksander smiles every time you jerk your head back, choking and gasping with tears in your eyes.

He strokes your flushed cheeks as more tears of frustration well in your eyes, and he chuckles at your reaction.

“You need to start small, milaya.” He informs you condescendingly as he grips the back of your head, urging you back down. “Suck on the tip.”

You do as he says, your mouth already feeling full from just the beginning of his cock. His fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, encouraging you to continue suckling.

Then he presses you closer, slowly, so you don’t even notice at first, until you feel his cock nudge against the back of your throat.

When he feels your throat tighten, he groans softly and a thrill runs through you. More tears flood down your cheeks, and you’re about to fight against his hold.

“Breathe through your nose.”

Your breaths are stilted, but you soon manage to do as he says. He groans a little louder, and you moan softly. His fingers flex and he releases you. A pleasure filled hum slips from his throat as his cock slides between your lips.

He guides your head back, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes.

Then he issues his next order.

“Strip.”

As you stand on wobbling legs, you take off your jacket, dropping it to the floor to join the scarf he had removed from you. With shaking hands, you undo the buttons on your shirt, and slide down your trousers.

Aleksander raises a brow when you hesitate, standing in front of him in only your underwear.

Once you’re completely bare, you can’t help but fiddle with your fingers. Life on the run had meant you hadn’t had the time to properly take care of your body.

Part of you wishes your first time with him had been when you were at the Little Palace. Where you had been pampered and prettied, with sweet smelling lotions and perfectly groomed hair.

“Turn for me. Slowly.” He instructs you.

You do as he says.

Once you’re facing him again, his eyes are hungry but he sighs,

“You haven’t been summoning, have you?”

You shake your head, guilt settling in your stomach. It’s not that you hadn’t wanted to. He holds your gaze for a long moment.

“Lie on the bed.”

Once again, you do as he says. Your feet skim the floor as you dangle your legs over the edge of the bed. Aleksander stands between your legs, towering over you as he slides his fingers through your soaked folds.

A loud moan is torn from your lips, and you throw your head back against the bedcovers, speeding your legs wider for him. His motions are firm and certain as he presses against your entrance, tracing a circle around your clenching hole.

“Summon, right now.” He demands.

You blink up at him.

“Aleksan-”

His other hand curls around your throat, his fingers pressing down on your clit.

“Call the sun, or I will do it for you.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his threat, body already yearning for the feeling of his power claiming yours. He breathes out a harsh laugh, already reading your desire.

“Is that what you want? You want me to do it for you?” He mocks. “Poor little girl who can’t summon on her own.”

Shameful arousal pools in your stomach, dropping down to flood between your legs where Aleksander slips a finger inside you.

“One of the first things you asked of me, was to give your power to someone who could use it. Don’t you still want that?”

You nod as much as you’re able to with his hand around your throat.

“Please.” You beg. “Please take it away. Take it all away. Want you in control, please.”

His thumb swipes over your clit, gathering the sticky wetness that’s soaking his fingers and using to bring you closer to your peak.

You topple over the edge, clenching hard around his finger as light floods through the room, shimmering from your skin. Heart hammering in your chest, you stare up at the ceiling, watching the light move over the uneven boards of wood above you.

He continues to stroke slowly through your folds as you come down from your high. When your breathing has evened out again, his finger circles your clit, and you whimper at the overstimulation.

Lifting your head up, you stare wide eyed at him as he flattens his palm over your stomach, keeping you in place as he speeds up.

“I can’t.” You whisper, shaking your head.

Gasps fall from your lips, louder and louder as you cry out,

“Please.”

“You take everything I give you.” He demands, his motions unwavering against your clit, and tears well in your eyes. “And you will be grateful for it.”

When you attempt to kick your legs in an effort to process the sensations flooding through you, your motions are halted. Aleksander’s shadows hold you tightly in place, spreading your legs wide, making you his for the taking.

At the sight of his power, you lose yourself completely. A scream falls from your lips as you clench around nothing, and Aleksander grins seeing you collapse boneless beneath him.

He shoves trousers and boxers down slightly, allowing them to hang at his mid thigh. He’s still wearing his shirt and jacket. You want to protest against this, after all, you’re completely bare, but your mouth doesn’t cooperate.

Despite how he had already loosened you up, and the amount of slick coating your cunt, the stretch of his cock pushing into you still burns, sending shockwaves through your body. As your body tightens in discomfort, Aleksander grips onto the collar.

Your vision swims and you close your eyes tightly as you feel him reach for your power, fingers tracing over the strings of your very soul, fine tuning them into whatever he wants.

The moment he fills you completely, you’re shaking and digging your nails into his clothes, your head thrown back as you convulse.

Aleksander laughs, realising you had just experienced a small climax already. If your eyes were open, you would see how tense his jaw was as he laughed. He wasn’t immune to the feeling of you clenching rapidly around his cock.

He breathes through gritted teeth as he slides out of you, only to push back in with a determined roll of his hips. The two of you moan in tandem, as he settles into a rhythm that has your toes curling.

His shadows wrap tighter around your thighs, holding you down against the mattress as he thrusts into your dripping cunt. Your fingers grasp at the sheets beneath you, occasionally fisting at his clothes as you writhe with pleasure.

Your gasps are increasing, a constant stream of moans making your throat hoarse as you throw your head back. Light dances over the walls, and the shadows lengthen over the floor.

Aleksander circles his thumb over your overstimulated clit, and the world goes white as you squeeze your eyes shut. His control of the shadows slips, and you’re able to wrap your legs weakly around his waist in an attempt to keep him close.

He groans lowly, face pressed into the crook of your neck as he spills inside you, and you breathe a sigh filled with elation. Pleasure clouds your vision, and every nerve in your body tingles.

When he pulls his softened cock out, you whimper and try to hold onto him. He breathes out a small laugh, but it seems more affectionate than mocking - though that could be the earth-shattering climax impairing your judgement.

Eyes still closed, you’re aware of a warm cloth being placed between your thighs, cleaning the mess away. His finger slides into you, pushing his spend back inside you. When you whine at the intrusion, he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

The world is fuzzy as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up.

“Come now, milaya. Let’s get you sat up. Are you hungry?”

Your eyes are barely open, but you nod enthusiastically. Whether it’s because you had finally summoned, or due to the vigorous exercise you had been put through, you’re not sure. But you’re starving.

Once you’re slumped against the pillows in an upright position, Aleksander sets down a tray filled with food. There’s bread, some cheeses, slices of meat, and fruits. You eat eagerly from Aleksander’s hand, limbs too heavy to do it yourself.

You know for a fact that this food isn’t from the boarding house. Even with your lack of appetite over the last few months, you know that the food here isn’t good.

Everything Aleksander offers you is delicious. Fresh and tasty. He cuts the fruit into bite sized pieces with a small knife, before he feeds them to you. The juice is sweet and refreshing.

He fills a glass with a soft wine, and you drink it quickly, eager for something to ease the hoarseness of your throat.

His touch is delicate now. A reassuring rub over your aching thighs; a thumb brushing a crumb from your lips; a hand resting on your stomach once you’ve finished eating.

He moves the tray away, pulling the covers over your body and encouraging you to sink back into the pillows that somehow smell like him.

It’s only as you’re slipping off to sleep that you realise the sheets aren’t the itchy cream ones you had fallen asleep on yesterday. They were black, a soft luxurious fabric that you can only assume usually resides on Aleksander’s own mattress.

A smile tugs at your lips as you imagine yourself back home at the Little Palace, safe in Aleksander’s arms.

Once you’re fully asleep, there’s a quiet knock at the door. Aleksander calls out in a low voice,

“Come in, Ivan.”

The heartrender steps into the room, closing the door behind him. He surveys your sleeping form for a brief moment, before he looks at his General.

Aleksander brushes a stray hair from your face, as he looks expectantly over at Ivan.

“The Drüskelle following her have been dealt with.” Ivan informs him.

“And the tracker?” Aleksander prompts.

“Left just before her third orgasm.”

He nods in acknowledgement, a look of pride on his face as he stares down at you, his hand sinking into your hair to massage your scalp.

Under his ministrations, you go even more pliant, slipping further into a deep sleep.

He had made you climax five times, ensured that you were well fed, and had drank a little wine. It’s likely you’ll be asleep until late afternoon tomorrow. By then the tracker will be long gone.

When you do wake it’ll be with Aleksander’s head between your thighs, tongue easing it’s way into your sore cunt to lick your slick directly from the source.

He can hardly wait, but he is a patient man, and now he has all the time in the world to enjoy you. Now that you’re his.

»»---------------------►

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

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia

[maimingaffairs]

Can I request something where fem reader maybe has a very unusual ability and everyone fears her except for Aleksander who finds her fascinating, and he trains her annd saves her from ridicule amongst other Grisha? Ambiguous ending, maybe two parts??

hi im so sorry I have been so awol... I've been so busy and such. but i love this request and I love u anon and I love literally everyone who comes across my work. MWAH big kisses for you all.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: mentions of blood I think.. nothing really

Fascination (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)

-

Life had altogether not been very kind to you. 

Every wayward turn and harsh awakening in your life had brought you to this very moment. 

Your arms were held tightly at your sides by two very tall and very strong Corporalki in red. You’d given up on fighting them off; it was clear they-and you- weren’t going anywhere. You let them drag you roughly towards a large tent, settled amongst other smaller tents and small stands and groups of soldiers. You sniffled quietly and turned your head down to your shoulder to try and rub tears off of your face against your cloak.  

A particularly hard shove was given to you just as you reached the opening of the large tent, and you stumbled forward, almost falling to your knees. You would have fallen, if the two men at your side weren’t still holding you, leaving you to partially dangle from their grip before you had to stand back up weakly. You had only just gotten back to your feet before you were pushed down to the ground and released. You caught yourself on your hands and you let out a quiet whimper as the gravel ground dug into your palms. You kept your head down for a moment, staring at the dirt, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

Eventually, you had the nerve to lift your head, and you wished you’d kept it down. A handful of Grisha in colorful keftas stood around a table and stared down at you with something between disgust and disappointment. 

And then there was him. 

Clothed in all black save for the little peek of red around his collar, stood The Darkling. The Grisha’s very own general. 

He looked down at you quizzically, as if you were a puzzle he was yet to finish putting together. No one spoke for a long time. Or perhaps it wasn’t a long time. You weren’t sure, time seemed to be passing so slowly that you could count your heartbeats comfortably without rush. 

“What is this?” 

His voice was dark and it made you look away from him, though you could tell he hadn’t looked away from you. 

“The deserter, Sir. The Siphoner.” Someone answered, and you assumed it was one of the hulking men behind you. 

“I can see that. Where?” He asked. His voice was eerily emotionless, commanding silence and respect from everyone in the room. It practically made you shiver. 

“Attempting to get across the Shu Han border. An informant found her and subdued her until we arrived.” 

The memory made you wince. Being held in a cellar for days with your hands bound apart from one another in the freezing cold. 

It wasn’t like your hands would’ve been of use anyway. You needed your own powers to do that. 

That of which, you lacked. 

You could only siphon through contact and emulate for a short period of time. If you were to touch an Inferni, you could be called an Inferni for a little while. Same with Heartrender, Squaller, Healer, all of it. 

When you were tested as a child, you had clearly tested positive. Your parents had been elated, thrilled that you’d been gifted. Not many parents thought that way, you’d come to realize. From there, you’d been whisked away to train, to advance your abilities. The odd thing was, it didn’t seem like you had any. 

It slowly became evident, though, that you were simply using other’s powers around you. You would hold your friend’s hand and shortly after be able to do what they could. 

It was rare, they said, but not impossible. 

They also claimed it to be dangerous. 

You were labeled to be dangerous. 

Really you weren’t, at least, you didn’t think so. 

After this had become known, no one hardly ever wanted to be around you, and it was like that for years and years until you were enlisted to join The Second Army as a healer. Sometimes. When other healers were willing to let you use their powers. It wasn’t as often as you might think, though. Apparently the process was tiring and painful, though you’d never felt a thing. 

Eventually it had become all too much. The loneliness, the constant ridicule, their constant disdainful stares. 

So you ran. And you had made it nearly. You’d been away for months, hiding away from and avoiding anyone who might turn you in. 

Gravel crunched under a pair of black boots and you lifted your eyes just slightly, pulling yourself back to the present moment. 

“Look at me, girl.” 

The Darkling’s voice chilled you to the bone and you didn’t dare disobey him. You slowly lifted your head to look up at him and he was already staring down at you. He eyed you as if you were a marvel, a creature walking around with two heads. Curiously, fascinated. 

Slowly, like a predator engaging its prey, The Darkling crouched down in front of you and grabbed your chin. He searched your face as if he had to be sure you looked the part. 

Maybe you did. 

Your face was dirty and tear streaked, and your hair was askew. Your clothes were a sight to see, as well, covered in dirt and tears. All in all, you looked exactly like you’d been running for months. 

“Clear the tent. I will question her alone.” He said suddenly and let go of your chin. He stood up and you felt as if you could breathe properly again now that he was no longer touching you. Everyone slowly filed out of his tent and you stayed on the ground, either too weak or too afraid to rise up to your feet. 

When it was only the two of you left in the tent, you slowly willed yourself to look up at him as he still stood over you. You were hardly surprised to see him staring down at you still, his gaze unwavering and hard. 

“Can you stand on your own?” He asked, nodding down at you. 

You couldn’t find your voice, but you laid your hands flat on the ground and shakily pushed yourself up. You stumbled forward a bit and prepared to crash back down to the ground, but The Darkling had reached out and grabbed your upper arms, steadying you enough to regain your balance and stand. 

Now he was fully able to take you in. He looked you up and down and studied your tattered clothes and your frail stature and he folded his arms over his chest. 

“Are you mute?” He asked sharply and you simply shook your head in reply. 

You didn’t dare look into his eyes again. You were terrified already, and looking into his eyes gave you the feeling that you were staring right into a vision of your own death. 

“Y/n L/n. You are being accused of deserting, not to mention you are known to hold an odd little ability that could be fatal to your fellow Grisha. You can stay silent, that is fine by me, but if I were you, I’d start explaining yourself quickly.” He stated grimly. 

You clutched your hands together nervously and you opened your mouth, a very quiet whine escaping your lips. 

“Am I to be killed?” You had meant for it to sound more casual; stronger. Instead your voice wavered and your bottom lip trembled. 

“You are not.” 

You weren’t sure if you were relieved to hear him say that or not. 

You gave him a little nod and he reached out and grabbed your shoulders, none too gently, at that. You winced a little and shied away from him as much as you could in his grip. 

“Answer my questions truthfully and you will not be punished as a deserter. You will not evade punishment entirely, but I will make sure you receive nothing too harsh.”

You gave him a shaky nod and wondered what he meant by ‘nothing too harsh’.

“You ran. Why?” He asked and then he released your shoulders, leaving you to sway just a bit. 

“I just…” burning tears of shame gathered in your eyes and you looked down to the ground and you bit the inside of your cheek, “…I was so tired of being alone here. Everyone avoids me, as if I’m a disease, and when they don’t, they’re often times cruel. I don’t have anything or anyone keeping me here, why is it a crime that I ran? It is not like anyone wants me here, much less you.” You stated and finally looked up at him. 

With your head upright, the tears spilled out of your eyes and down your cheeks, and you turned your head away from him, looking off to the side of the tent. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. You wanted to look at him, to see if there was an indication of what he might say or do next, but you kept your eyes away from him. 

You sniffled a few times and brought your filthy sleeve up to your face to wipe it, but a hand on your wrist stopped you.  

“Don’t. Your clothes are filthy.” He said, almost as if he were correcting a child. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it into your palm and gave you a nod. 

You stared down at it as if it might grow a mouth and some teeth, but after moment you slowly lifted it up to your face and dabbed your eyes with it. You reached out shakily and offered the handkerchief back to him, but he shook his head. 

“No. Keep it. You’ll likely need it more than I.” He replied and you nodded once, biting down on the inside of your cheek. 

There was more silence and you shifted your eyes downwards to your shoes. You didn’t need to look up to know that his eyes were on you. 

“Siphon from me.” He suddenly commanded, and this had you widening your eyes and turning to look at him. 

“No, Sir, I have been given strict orders to never siphon, it’s not natural, it’s an abomination of the Small Science.” You protested but he simply shook his head. 

“I am in charge, and I order you to. Clearly it’s natural enough. You were born with it. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last. You’re just very, very rare. Now, do as I say, and siphon from me.” He commanded once more, his tone authoritative. 

You eyed him very cautiously and then you raised your hand up away from your side. Your hand visibly shook as you moved it towards his, and he seemed to get the idea, because he lifted his own hand and moved it towards you. You gave him a little nod and then wrapped your hand delicately around his wrist. His skin was smooth and cold under your touch and you fought back a chill. He just felt like one of the shadows he could summon. 

Slowly, you began to draw his power into your own grasp, and you closed your eyes, focusing on the connection between the two of you now, the ebb and the flow of energy from his wrist to your hand. He stood as still as a statue, and after just a moment, you let go of his wrist and pulled your hand back to your side. 

You looked up at him as he rolled his wrist a bit and flexed his hand, staring at his skin. You almost expected something to be on it, but it was as flawless as it had been prior. 

“That’s all?” He asked and then raised his eyebrow, “You could have taken enough to overpower me and leave the camp and escape. Why didn’t you?” He demanded. 

You blinked in confusion, taking a half step back. He was right, you could have. But you didn’t want to. Why didn’t you want to?

“I don’t know, Sir.” You answered timidly and wrung your hands together nervously. 

“I do.” He replied. 

You looked at him curiously and then he gave you a smile. 

It wasn’t a nice smile. It was a cold, ostentatious smile.

“Despite being lonely, you don’t want to be truly alone.” 

-

The ride back to the Little Palace was a very uncomfortable one. 

You’d been cleaned up after your meeting with The Darkling. He’d demanded that someone clean you up properly and get you in some clothes that weren’t in ruins. Once you’d been put back together, you sat quietly in his tent before he came back and told you that he was taking you back to the Little Palace. He did not give you a reason as to why, but he did assure you that you were not going to be punished. 

You sat in a carriage with one other Grisha now. He wore a purple kefta and his short brown hair sat on his head messily, falling into his face and around his eyes. He hadn’t spoken more than two words to you, but you didn’t feel any sort of contempt in the way he acted. He quietly read from a book across from you, and you pulled your legs up with you on the seat. 

You didn’t have a kefta, so instead you’d been given a long grey coat and a tan fur cloak to keep yourself warm in. You absentmindedly picked at your already torn up cuticles and you heard a little sigh from the man in front of you.  

“Stop. You’ll make yourself bleed and you’re going to hurt yourself.” He stated and you looked up at him. His book laid in his lap and he was now looking at you, or specifically, your hands. 

“It’s a bad habit.” You answered and looked down at your lap. 

“It is a bad habit, indeed. So I think you should stop. Before you pick your fingers raw.” His tone had a hint of concern in it that you hadn’t heard directed at you for quite a long time, and it was enough to bring your eyes up to his. 

“Well, that’s kind of the point of it being a habit. I can’t really stop.”

“You can. You just have to commit to it mentally.” He argued and then closed his book, setting it aside next to his leg on the seat. 

“I don’t think I have any of my wits about me mentally, so I guess I’ll just have to attempt breaking this habit at a different time.” You said with a very dry chuckle. 

The man flashed a sad little smile at you and then he shook his head. 

“Does anyone have their wits about them, really?” He asked and then looked around the carriage briefly before settling his gaze back on you.

You shrugged at the man and then he leaned forward and offered you his hand. 

“I am David.” He introduced himself to you, and you blinked a few times. 

If he noticed your hesitancy, he didn’t move back or make it known. Instead, he kept his hand patiently in front of you until you reached out to grab onto it gently, giving it a light shake. 

“I’m y/n.” You finally said in return. 

David seemed to be pleased with your interaction, because when you two pulled your hands away, he gave you a kind smile and then picked up his book again. 

“You aren’t in trouble, you know,” David began and then opened up the book once more, “The Darkling wants you at the Little Palace so that he can keep an eye on you. Your safety was no priority at the camp. He didn’t like that very much.” He finished and then buried his nose back in the book. 

David’s words took you by surprise and you blinked a few times, “What do you mean by that?” You asked and eyed the man in front of you. 

“I mean exactly what I said.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t get it. Why does my safety matter enough to bring me to the Little Palace?” You asked, confusedly. The Darkling shouldn’t care about your safety. You’d met him for the first time only eight hours or more ago, and it wasn’t an overall pleasant meeting, and he received you with little to no kindness. 

“Well, you are a Siphoner? Are you not? You can be utilized quite effectively with proper training.” He responded in a monotone, not bothering to look up from his book. 

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest like an indignant child. 

“You’re mistaken. Trust me. I’ve been told otherwise my entire life.” You stated. 

This pulled his attention away from his book and he glanced up at you briefly. 

“Then you have simply been surrounded by people who don’t understand the use of power.” He replied and then gave you an awkward little smile. 

You didn’t reply to him after he said this, you simply sat back and leaned your head against the wall. You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until you were in the carriage, and your eyes now felt heavy and you could feel your surroundings start to feel only half there. You pulled your arms underneath the thick cloak and you let your eyes fall closed, unable to escape the grasp of sleep that pulled you deep beneath its depths. 

-

Days had passed, days mostly spent sleeping and having short and quiet conversations with David. You didn’t realize just how tired you were until you had gotten a taste of sleep. Real sleep. Not just little naps while you were on the run. Days of waiting were not in vain, though, because the second the carriage rolled up in front of the Little Palace, you felt a bit of relief. Now you could sleep in a bed, at the very least. 

The doors opened to the carriage and a tall man, clothed in a bright red kefta motioned for you to get out of the carriage. You carefully clambered out with David following silently behind you and you stood awkwardly at the foot of the steps that led up into the palace. 

A hand pressed itself into your lower back and you spun around to see the Darkling standing at your side. His shoulders were squared properly and his face was as cold and emotionless as stone, eyes reflecting the same expression. He glanced down at you and began to gently lead you up the steps, bringing you into the palace. 

“You have been asleep each time I have come to check on you.” He remarked as the two of you moved down a grandiose hallway. His tone was not accusatory, nor was it annoyed. If anything, he was slightly amused. 

“Well, I don’t think I’ve had a secure situation to sleep in for the last three months so this has been nice.” You replied quietly and looked down at your feet as the two of you walked. 

He hummed and let out a small chuckle, “Secure situation? Meaning…?”

“Meaning your soldiers have been hunting me down for three months and I haven’t had a moment where I haven’t needed to watch my back.” You replied, your tone clipped. You instantly regretted it, too. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment and then he tapped your back just once, and you could barely feel it through your cloak, “Well, you are the one that decided to run. Though you have my apologies for the rough treatment leading up to when you came to me for the first time. Is that a fair trade?” He asked, a thin, forced smile playing upon his lips. 

You studied his face for a moment and felt your mouth go dry. Of course you’d looked at him before but it’s as if this was the first time you were really seeing him. His dark eyes stole the breath right out of your lungs. His face was chiseled by the hands of saints and his skin was flawless. You blinked a few times while you stared at him and then you let out a quiet scoff. 

“An apology, while unexpected, isn’t that fair all things considering.” You replied and then pressed your lips together tightly. 

The two of you came to a door that was across from a set of double doors and he pushed it open, nudging you inside with the hand that was against your lower back. You looked around the room that he’d led you into and you gave an approving nod. There was a large, four poster bed with a canopy and cream colored sheets and beautiful furniture made of deep, rich woods. A bouquet of wildflowers sat in a vase atop a the vanity and you turned to look up at The Darkling. 

“I hope your quarters are suitable.” He murmured as you took a step away from him. 

“They’ll do just fine.” You replied and then rubbed your eyes a few times, still exhausted from your journey. 

You felt a hand on your back again and you slowly turned your head around to see him peering down at you.

“You can rest here. Without fear of being hunted.”

“It’s persecution I fear now.” 

He was silent for a moment and then he let out a small sigh, shaking his head just once.

“I will not allow anyone to speak down to you. You are Grisha, whether your talent is rare or not.” He finally said. 

“Me being Grisha changed nothing before.” 

“Well it changes everything now.” He said sternly. 

“Why? Why are you being… so benevolent?” You asked and then raised your eyebrows, “I’ve spent my entire life being ostracized, persecuted, belittled… all because of this ability I have. And you’re telling me that you never once even heard about me until I ran ? I know that’s a lie. Why am I important now?” You demanded and then made the mistake of locking eyes with him. 

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Instead he kept his eyes on yours unyieldingly. He didn’t let up on his gaze for a while, and when he finally did, you felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders. 

“You’ve always been important. I just never knew to what extent until now. You are of great help to me and I’d like to train you according to your gifts. My sincerest apologies for not being more diligent when it came to your treatment.” 

His voice was low and it demanded your attention. Demanded your reverence. 

“I’d like to sleep.” You whispered, shying away from his burning stare, boring into your face like hot coals. 

“Of course.” 

His voice was as smooth as silk now as he moved away from you and in a few fluid, almost melodic steps, moved towards your bed. He pulled the covers back and motioned towards it, turning his head back towards you. You eyed him cautiously before you kicked off your boots and shrugged off your cloak, leaving them to be the only mess on the pristine hardwood floors. You made your way to the bed and climbed onto it, laying on your side so that you didn’t have to look up into his eyes again. 

He tucked the blankets around your shoulders and then he let out a quiet chuckle; nervousness overcame you like a disease. 

“You are afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” You protested before you could even think. 

“I make you nervous.”

“Don’t you think you make everyone nervous?”

“Not everyone.”

“You’re wrong.”

He thought for a moment after you spoke and then he moved away from your bedside and walked towards the door. 

“Get some sleep, y/n. Come find me when you wake.” He commanded, though his tone was light; nearly on the cusp of gentle. 

As he left the room, you were left with the parting gift of sudden silence. You stared at the wall from your position on the bed and your mind ran wild. What if no one liked you here? What if things were the same? You didn’t want to go back to being alone, and you didn’t want to keep feeling alone. Then of course, there was the Darkling, who was mysterious and ambiguous in all endeavors, who all but promised you that you’d not be lonely. You doubted that highly. 

Though his presence wasn’t overall unpleasant, the air around him was thick and filled you with an odd nervousness. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so regal and matter-of-fact; stone cold. Or maybe, it was how beautiful he was. You didn’t expect him to be so breathtaking, though you’d heard before that the Shadow Summoner was a sight to see. 

Whatever it was, it didn’t allow you much sleep. 

-

“You’re not very good at focusing.” The Darkling remarked as you drummed your fingers against your upper arm. 

“I can focus when I’m intrigued.” You stated quietly and twirled a bit of your hair around your finger. 

“Then we will go again. And again. And again until you’re ‘intrigued’.” 

He was referring to using his power. Power that you’d siphoned from him. He’d been training you- or trying to- for days now. Trying to get you to use what you’d siphoned. It had been easy with other powers. Normal powers. For some reason though, it was much harder to utilize what you’d taken from The Darkling. Nothing seemed to be working, and you were growing bored and frustrated.

You looked up at him as he stood above you while you sat at his desk and you folded your arms over your chest in an insolent fashion. 

“I’m tired and this is getting old. I can’t do it obviously.” You huffed and he let out a quiet groan. 

“You wondered why you had no friends before and I can answer that for you right now.” He snapped, and you looked up at him, shocked. 

“Excuse me?” 

You could tell that he regretted it by the way his face twitched and softened and he let out a sigh, “It’s this damned attitude of yours.” He mumbled, “You’re so negative.”

“Right.” You snapped back at him and then turned your head so that he was no longer in your view, “And by the way, I have nothing to be positive about. Deal with the negativity.” You said, irritatedly. 

His hand laid itself on your shoulder and you heard him sigh, “I know this is arduous work. But you can do it, you know.” He murmured, gently rubbing your shoulder back and forth. 

You slowly turned your head to gaze up at him and you shook your head once, “I would’ve done it by now.” You muttered and then leaned your elbows down against his desk.

He pulled his hand away from your shoulder and he reached out and extended it towards you, palm up. 

You stared at his hand confusedly and he wagged his fingers just slightly. 

He wanted you to take his hand. 

You eyed him cautiously and looked him up and down for just a moment before you shifted a bit and laid your hand gingerly in his own. His slender fingers clasped your hand gently and he looked down into your eyes with an almost eager stare. 

“Try now.” He ordered, tone soft.  

You looked him up and down before you eyed your joined hands and then you shook your head, “How is this supposed to help?” You asked quietly, but he didn’t answer. 

His answer came as a feeling, as if his touch was tugging at something within you, that started in your fingers. Only as a tingle. Then, slowly, it spread up your arms and through your entire body. It was electric, it was empowering, and before you knew it, wisps of shadow were rolling off of your fingertips. Slowly at first, but soon it became more rapid, and the shadows grew larger, and larger, and you gasped. You went to push even more shadows out through your fingers, when the Darkling pulled his hand away from yours and looked down at you as if you’d stolen his very breath away from his lips. 

A strange look settled behind his dark eyes and he reached up to take your face in his hand, holding it by your jaw. Gently, he turned your head side to side as if he were examining a rare stone and then he shook his head. Curiously, he brushed his thumb against your jawline and then he let you go. 

“You’re a marvel.” He spoke reverently, his eyes staring down into yours. 

“I hardly think-“

“No. Don’t argue with me. You could be anything. Everything. You’re dangerous.”

You blinked a couple of times and then you shook your head, your hand traveling up to your face, fingers brushing against the spot that he’d just held, “What was that?” You asked and then held your hand up, wiggling your fingers.

He took your hand in his and examined it closely, as if it was the most unusual thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. 

Finally, he let your hand go after a few moments and he looked down at your face, a little smile playing on his lips, “Have you heard of amplifiers?”

“Of course I have.” You retorted, lowering your hand down into your lap. 

He gave you a little nod, but said nothing further before he just shrugged and sat down on the corner of his desk, looking down at you. You sighed, exasperated. Oftentimes, the Darkling left you with more questions than answers. You came to the realization that this was simply one of those times. You slowly rose from the chair you sat in and you smoothed down your grey kefta and cleared your throat. 

“It’s getting late, sir.” You remarked, doing all that you could to evade his gaze, even if you still felt it on you like a thousand suns. 

“Indeed.” Was all he said as he continued to sear you with his stare. 

“Your staring is creepy, you know.” You drawled, drumming your fingers on the sides of your kefta. 

A little laugh fell from his lips and you had to make sure you heard him correctly. You looked up at him, surprised, to see him smiling down at you as if you were the most amusing thing in the world to him. 

“You fascinate me, that’s all, miss y/n.” He said, a playfully lilt in his normally stern tone. 

“Never been told that before.” 

“Perhaps you should get used to hearing it.”

Perhaps you would. 

[dearmantis]

First Snow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova /The Darkling x Tidemaker!Reader

Summary: Snow finally falls and you want to enjoy the freezing temperatures at night in peace.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors' Note: Yes, I wrote this because it finally snowed where I live and I really missed it. This is completely plotless and pointless, I won't lie. This is also not edited and English isn't my native language.

You've lost the feeling in your nose, ears, hands and feet twenty minutes ago, but you can't bring yourself to go back inside as you stare up into the sky, snow landing on your face and settling on top of your lashes.

The wish to lay down in the thick, undisturbed layer of snow in front of you is strong but you still remember the last time Aleksander found you buried under a few centimetres of snow, his face red from anger and the freezing temperatures.

"Do you want to freeze to death?" he had asked, voice sharp as a knife as he grabbed you by the collar, quickly pulling you up to your feet before removing the snowflakes sticking to your cloak, scarf and fur hat with quick, light slaps against the fabric and fur.

He has never been able to understand your love for freezing temperatures, for ice and snow, thick cloaks and hot teas, so you decide every year to sneak out during the coldest winter nights, leaving him, comfortable in his ignorance, alone as he works the night away.

You usually make it back inside before he notices your absence, the exceptions being few and far in between, so you don't think he knows just how often you leave him during the night to enjoy the winter in peace.

Of course you wish you could spend the nights with him, surrounded by shadows and frost, but he has simply never been the type to truly get it.

In all honesty, you don't fully get it either. Why snow and ice are what has you in such a trance while almost every other Tidemaker you know feels the happiest around lakes, rivers or the ocean. Closeness to the element you control brings ease to Etheralki, at least most of the time. It's like having a weapon close by that you'd be able to wield blindly if required. Why your favourite weapon is tied to a season is a mystery, however.

Humming quietly you rub your gloved hands together before lifting them up to your lips and blowing hot hair into them, trying to get some feeling back. The metal bench you're sitting on is still ice cold and refuses to truly warm up, instead sucking the heat out of your thighs, but it's also the only place where you can sit, and it's still too early to go back inside. The first heavy snowfall of the season deserves to be appreciated.

Thick clouds are sitting in the sky, covering the stars and blocking the light of the moon, drowning the surroundings of the Little Palace in darkness, the only light source being the small lantern you carried outside with you, housing a big, white candle, proudly burning with all it's might inside of the protective metal and glass box.

It's peaceful, so peaceful in fact that you don't even notice it when somebody approaches, stuck too deep in your own thoughts to realise what's going on until the person sits down next to you and holds a steaming cup under your face. Your head whips to the side, hands moving together in case you have to defend yourself, when you finally recognize the huge black fur coat next to you.

"Sasha" you huff, fingers wrapping around the hot cup, the warmth stinging as feeling returns slowly to your hands.

"I woke up because I got cold" he confesses, a small, bashful smile visible on his lips. "And you weren't next to me, so I looked out the window to see if I could find you out here."

You're sitting on the bench closest to your shared quarters, directly visible from the windows. As cheesy and stupid as it might sound, the closeness to Aleksander brings you a similar feeling of safety and peace as the snow. Staying too far away from him, especially when you're both vulnerable, easy targets – him being asleep and you being stuck daydreaming – is almost uncomfortable.

Taking a small sip from the tea he has brought you sigh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. The dark fur of his coat tickles a bit against your skin as you respond.

"I'm sorry, Sasha. I just wanted to get outside and enjoy the fresh snow. I completely forgot that you could wake up."

Aleksanders sleep has always been notoriously light, waking up at the slightest of sounds, change of lighting or shift in temperature. All things considered it is quite a miracle that you got to spend those previous thirty minutes undisturbed. Usually you choose to sneak out while he isn't in the palace or while he's working the night away in the war room, but tonight you simply couldn't help yourself.

He shakes his head, lifting his own cup to his lips to drink a few sips before he speaks. "Don't worry about it, milaya. I should've expected this. You've spent the whole day staring at the falling snow outside. I just assumed you wouldn't dare to leave while I slept next to you. You usually only disappear when I work."

There's a thick layer of amusement audible in his voice and it warms your heart better than any cloak or fur ever could.

"So you knew?" you ask surprised, lifting your head from his shoulder to look at him. "But you always get so mad when you catch me. I don't understand-"

"Let an old man have his fun, milaya." Aleksander cuts you off, hand moving to your shoulder to press you back against him. "Of course I notice it when you sneak out. And I come and get you when you stay out for too long. It's cute that you thought I wouldn't notice it, though. Especially considering that I always have a Heartrender around to stand guard."

You groan loudly, taking another long sip of the tea before burying your face in the Darklings thick fur coat again. It smells nice, like rosemary and burning wood, with an underlying note of something sweet. Aleksanders own smell that you've never been able to fully identify.

"So Maksim betrayed me." you murmur into the coat, taking another deep breath to take in more of the smell. Sweet berry jam, maybe?

He laughs loudly, his body shaking with the sound as he leans his head against yours. "Betrayed? He is doing his job, don't be too hard on him."

His hand rubs your back carefully and you can hear him taking a big sip from his own tea.

You sit like this for a few minutes, occasionally taking a sip from your teas, enjoying the darkness and snow. When your cup is empty you place it on the ground in front of you before you stand up to quickly sit down on his lap, hands moving inside his coat to lay flat against his back, soaking in the warmth his body gives off.

Pressing yourself tightly against him he moves to rest his chin on your head as a laugh rumbles through his body. "Are you getting cold, milaya?" he purrs, placing his own cup next to you on the bench to free his hands and hug you freely.

"I just want to be closer to you for a bit." you answer softly. His thighs are so much warmer than the cold bench, his whole body radiating heat like a fire.

"You could be even closer to me if we went back inside." Aleksander whispers back.

"I don't want to go back inside yet. The Squallers are gonna remove the snow in the morning. I want to enjoy this as long as I can."

"Maybe, but we will freeze to death together."

"We will freeze to death by then."

You giggle quietly.

[jpriest85-blog]

It was a bit early, but I came up with some concept art of @vendetta-if sequel MC. Including portraits of my MC, Akami, Luka, Jackal, and my interpretation of her older brother Konstantin. While Konstantin does share Luka's height and eye color, I headcanon he inherited most of his features from his late Uncle Viktor. This probably triggers a lot of bittersweet memories for Luka when he sees his children playing and getting a very vivid sense of deja vu at how much his son looks like how he remembers Viktor as a child. Either way, he's glad Akami has such a close relationship with her older brother... although it worried Luka at first how many times she tried to bite Kosta as a toddler. Here's some more info about Akami

Vendetta sequel MC

Name: Akami Morozova

Nickname: Ai-chan,  or норка (norka).

Gender: Female 

Sexual preferences: Lesbian 

Birthday: April 8

Zodiac: Aries

Face claim: Mikako Tabe

Body claim: Maika

Height: 5ft.2”/158cms.

Ethnicity: Japanese 

Hair: long, straight black hair with blunt bangs

Eyes: Black 

Complexion: Pale

Tattoos & distinguishing features: A long thin scar that starts on the left corner of her mouth going down her neck to her collar bone. An Irezumi tattoo on her right shoulder depicts a mink drawn like a kamaitachi wearing a jackal skull on its head.

Personality: Akami tends to come across as a Stoic and intense person, which can be expected considering her role in the family is to assist her older brother,Konstantin, and take out any threats to him or the family. Although many people tend to underestimate her at first since she's rather petite and baby faced. They're quick to regret it, though, as Akami is very brutal. Adopted or not, Akami is still a Morozov, and one of her fathers’ is an infamous hitman, and she very much is Jackal's daughter. She is also intensely competitive and hates to lose. While it did help motivate her to improve during combat training, it did cause problems in less high stakes situations. Such as Akami attempting to bite her brother when they were young children whenever she lost against him playing board games. Thankfully, Akami has outgrown the habit of biting people…mostly anyway. 

Despite Akami's history of aggressive behavior, she does have a fondness for cute things and even used to dress in Lolita fashion clothes as a teenager. She also tends to get flustered easily around beautiful women turning bright red and attempting to hide behind her longer hair. While Konstantin will often tease Akami about trying to hide her soft side, he does look out for his baby sister and often tries to play wingman for her. While it does embarrassed Akami, since she's not good about dealing with feelings, other than rage. She does appreciate that her older brother is one of the few people she willingly confides in with personal matters. Besides, it's not like she can ask their dads for advice with girls, and Konstantin is the only other relative, besides their cousin Katerina, with actual social skills. 

Her older brother also helps Akami rein in her temper since she's also prone to active impulsively. Having grown up together Konstantin knows his sister well enough to intervene early before she does something reckless, although sometimes he does have to physically restrain Akami, and he's one of the few people with both the physical strength and trust with her to be able to pull it off. While Akami's relationships with her brother have grown more professional since he became the new family head, it's not always completely serious. They will still affectionately tease each other and get into childish arguments with each other when in private. They're still siblings, after all. Once in a while, Akami and her brother still indulge in the same dumbass stunts and games they enjoyed as kids. Like Akami convincing her older brother to use his laser vision to blow up a watermelon or pumpkin filled with fireworks! From a safe distance and with safety gear, of course, they don't want to risk their father, Luka, freaking out and putting them both on house arrest again like last time. 

Additional info & Headcanons

Akami didn't speak until she was an older toddler. It worried both Artyom and Luka when they first brought her home. They had many doctors and specialists check on her, and they didn't find any physical impairments to her delayed speech. The doctors tried to assure her fathers that she's still within the windows for her first words. Unfortunately, the first words they would hear from their daughter weren't Dada or Papa. It was hearing Akami telling Takashi to “fuck off” after he annoyed the little girl by fawning over her too much and pinching her cheeks. Thankfully he wasn't too offended after the initial shock of hearing baby Akami cursing at him, and most of the family found it funny. Luka took a bit longer to find the humor that his youngest daughter's first words were cussing out an ally and family friend like she was a tiny Samuel L. Jackson.

Akami had a hard time making friends with other kids her age growing up. So her older brother Konstantin was her only friend for a while since he was one of the few people who always figured out how to get her to open up.

Akami has a stuffed Axolotl plushie Konstantin won for her at Carnival game when they were kids. She was upset she was too small to ride anything fun, so her brother made a point to win her the giant salamander plushy to cheer her up. It was her favorite toy, and she still keeps it even as an adult but would never admit it.

Konstantin was also the first one to take Akami out drinking when she was old enough. While it was fun Akami did give her brother a heart attack the next day when he went to check on how she's handling her first hangover by crawling out from under her bed doing a very convincing impression of Sadako from The Ring. It's not like she did it on purpose, but the fact Akami is naturally pale with long dark hair combined with her bloodshot eyes, and unsteady gait while hung over gives her an eerie resemblance to the iconic ghost girl popular in Asian horror films.

Akami received the large scar on her face and neck from an early assination mission that went sideways. She narrowly avoided getting her carotid artery cut but thankfully survived. Both her fathers and brother were furious that someone would dare scar Akami's pretty little face but they were proud to learn she did worse to the bastard who cut her, by tearing out his lower jaw…until she asked if she could keep the piece of jawbone as a trophy.

Akami has an affectionate nickname based on an animal. Her family calls her норка (norka) since it's the Russian word for mink. Her grandfather was the first one to use Nickname since, like the animal, Akami looks small and soft but is quite an aggressive predator. She even received a mink coat from him as a gift, and even as an adult, Akami prefers wearing mink coats when it snows.

Both Akami and Konstantin have a close relationship with their older cousin Katerina, to the point she's become a maternal figure to them. Like how Aunt Cara used to be a mother figure to Katerina when she was young.

Akami and Konstantin are also raised in a multilingual household. They both grew up speaking English, Russian, Cantonese, as well as Japanese considering their close relationship with the Aikawas.

Likewise, they are also close to Katerina's SOs Ash and Rin. All three of them had some influence over Akami in some way. Kitty would often take Akami shopping and dress her up, which is partly why Akami is fond of cute clothes. Rin helped instill a love of music with her, and Ash helped Akami with combat training.

Ash also unintentionally inspired Akami's arsonist tendencies. As a toddler, Akami would always giggle and get excited whenever she saw Ash create a small flame. Granted, Ash is usually more careful about using her abilities around the kids, but how could she say no to little Akami pleading to see her make fire appear on her finger tips. Especially with how cute the little girl is when she giggles and claps like she's watching a magic show. Until Akami starts trying to make her own fires. Thankfully, Luka is experienced in dealing with short tempered girls who start fires, although he makes sure to check that Akami isn't taking any flammable materials with her before she leaves the house.

While Akami also grew up close to the Aikawa family, both as allies and in-laws, since Rin married her cousin Katerina. Rin also helped influence a love of music in her. Akami was a very aggressive child, and Rin noticed early on that music had a soothing effect on her, which came in handy whenever Kitty volunteered to babysit her cousins. Akami does wind up taking music lessons growing up and does develop a beautiful singing voice, although she rarely sings in front of anyone outside her family. Akami has a preference for R & B, Soul, Jazz, and Blues music and even took up playing the drums as a teenager.

While Akami shares both her fathers distaste for large formal parties, she does try to restrain herself. Unfortunately for Akami, that restraint means punching a man in the crotch instead of stabbing him when he incessantly asked her to dance after she already said no. Thankfully, Konstantin knows his sister well enough to prevent such incidents by introducing her to groups of pretty women. Sure, Akami doesn't say much, but she's more likely to come across as adorably shy by being flustered around a group of socialites. Instead of insulting a potential ally's family by punching someone (although that one jackass did deserve it by not accepting his sister's refusal).

[mistiell]

Strange Love Pt. 5

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem! Healer! Reader

Summary: The winter fete has arrived and you can't help but be a little nervous. Aleksander manages to quell your nerves until you finally get there. Turns out, you had good reason to be worried.

Warnings: Description of a panic attack

Word Count: 3.2k

Part 4 < Current > Part 6

The day of the winter fete has arrived, and to say you’re nervous would be an understatement. You’ve always wondered what it would be like to attend, but it always seemed like one of those dreams that was fun to fantasize about because it was guaranteed to never come true. Now that it’s your reality, you can’t help but feel a little anxious.

“Nervous?” Aleksander asks as he shrugs on his kefta, pulling you from your thoughts.

You huff a short puff of laughter as you start with the buttons on your own kefta, “A little.”

He turns you around by your waist and pushes your hands away, doing up your buttons for you while you continue talking, “I’ve only been to a handful of parties over the years, and they were never anything this large or extravagant. I guess I’m worried about how many people there are going to be.”

“It gets crowded, but I’m certain you’ll enjoy yourself.” He assures, running his hands down your waist to smooth out any wrinkles.

“Do you enjoy it?” He hesitates before smiling rather sheepishly.

“The food is delicious.”

You snort at that, “I assume you aren’t one for crowds either?”

He makes a sound of indifference as he fusses over your collar.

“I don’t hate them.” He states, brushing his hands over your shoulders until you take his wrists, allowing you to drop them between the two of you to hold his hands.

“Should I be worried?” You ask softly, clarifying when you see the confusion suffused in his expression, “About the king, I mean.”

He seems to consider your worry for a moment before shaking his head, “He won’t have any reason to suspect you.” When you hum and stare down at your entwined hands, he pulls one away to cup your cheek and tilt your face up to look you in the eye, “You have nothing to fear, milaya. I promise.”

“I believe you.” He smiles, pressing his lips to your forehead before leaning down to peck your lips once, twice, three times before you push him away, giggling, “We’re going to be late.”

He hums and pulls you flush against him by your waist, silencing your squeak of surprise with yet another kiss, smiling and chuckling into it when he feels you thread your fingers in the hairs at the base of his skull to pull him closer. There’s a small voice in the back of your head that eggs you on – it’ll be fine if you’re a little late, nobody will notice – But you silence it, reluctantly pulling away from him and tugging lightly at his hair when he attempts to chase you, “Aleksander.”

“Y/n.” He mimics the stern tone of your voice and laughs when you scoff and swat at his chest, “I’m only teasing, lapushka.”

You huff but can’t help the smile that creeps up on your face, “We really need to get going.”

He glances at the clock on his dresser and lets you go, finally relenting with a sigh, “I suppose you’re right.”

“As always.” You tease as you walk away, grinning puckishly at him before you disappear around the corner.

He follows you out the door into the hall – empty save for Ivan standing at his post – and leans down to whisper in your ear as you walk, squeezing at your waist playfully, “Cheeky little thing.”

You laugh and let him lead you through the halls.

You can’t help but marvel at the palace as you go. It’s beautifully decorated, and the scent of a wide variety of delicious food floods your nose. As you pass by a set of stairs, you spot a silk dancer performing in the middle and can’t help but stare. 

When you enter the ballroom, it’s crowded just as Aleksander said it would be, nobles from all over nursing fancy glasses of kvas and gossiping about who knows what. 

You spot the king and queen sitting in their thrones and tense. There’s nothing to fear, you know that, but it’s still nerve racking. Aleksander pulls you from your thoughts.

“May I have this dance?” He asks, coming to stand in front of you and offering you his hand.

“Oh, erm…” Your face flushes and you glance down at the floor, “I don’t know how.”

“That’s alright. We’ll go slow.” Carefully, he takes your hand, watching you stare down at your feet, “When I step forward,” He takes a careful step forward and you step back just in time to match him. He smiles, “You step back. See? You’re a natural. Just follow my lead.”

You stumble a few times but you quickly fall into a steady rhythm, counting your steps to the music in your head while Aleksander leads you across the dance floor. You’re half way through counting your sixth one, two, three when he speaks up again, “You look like you’re trying to solve the meaning of life.”

“I’m trying not to step on your toes.” He laughs at that, nosing at your forehead subtly to soften the crease between your brows.

“Relax, milaya. I’ve got you.” You shoot him a skeptical glance but stop counting nonetheless, letting him guide you through the movements. With your focus no longer on counting, you notice that he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“Enjoying the view, General?” You grin and he chuckles.

“Very much so, yes.” He leans down and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “You look gorgeous.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m wearing your colour”

“While that is part of it,” He pulls back to look at you properly and there’s something intense in his gaze that has your stomach doing flips, “The rest is all you, darling.”

He pulls away to twirl you once and as he pulls you back to him, you catch a flash of blue near the king’s throne in your peripherals. It has an unusual and unsettling sense of dread twisting up your stomach and when you crane your neck to see more, you spot Zoya speaking to the king. 

Your heart sinks. 

Aleksander opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong but when he follows your gaze, the question dies in his throat. You’ve stopped dancing now, the people around you and the sound of their clapping for the musicians fading into the background as you watch the King seek you out in the crowd. When he spots you, he scowls, leaning over to whisper to one of his guards. The man sets his sights on you.

“Aleksander.” You half whisper, half whimper and he tightens his grip on your waist, turning you and leading you toward the exit. 

“Stay calm.” He whispers in your ear, weaving through the crowded hallway in a zigzag pattern in an attempt to lose the guard. You spot two more guards headed towards you and hang a sharp left down a blocked off section of the palace, catching Aleksander off guard, “What are you—?”

“Trust me.” You whisper, speeding up to a jog as you turn right down another hallway, keeping a firm grip on his wrist. You can hear their heartbeats, there’s four of them now. They’ll turn down this hall any second. You spot a door to your right and clock it as one of the storage closets you’d found when you were planning your escape. Throwing open the door, you practically shove Aleksander inside before squeezing in next to him, shutting the closet just as the guards round the corner. 

The space is so cramped that the two of you are chest to chest, the only sound between the two of you being your ragged breathing. A sound you attempt to muffle by clamping a hand over your mouth. When they pass by the door, you go rigid, eyes screwed shut as you send up a silent prayer to the saints. You don’t notice you’re holding your breath until Aleksander removes your hand from your mouth, whispering a soft but urgent, “Breathe.”

You breathe out sharply and take a deep, shuddering breath, the both the sudden loss and intake of oxygen making you woozy. He steadies you by your waist and you grip the front of his kefta like a lifeline, resting your forehead against his chest as you force yourself to control your breathing. He smooths a hand up and down your spine until you pull back, finding his worried face in the dark. 

“They’re gone.”

“You’re sure?” He watches you close your eyes and subconsciously angle your head toward the door. The first thing that draws your attention is him. With the proximity, you can sense just about everything going on in his body right now. You let your awareness of him settle into the background and strain your ears to search a little further. There’s a monotonous, far off thrumming of heartbeats in the direction of the party, but aside from that, nothing.

When you open your eyes, you find him staring, “I’m sure.”

He nods, peeking his head out the door to check just in case before sliding out from beside you, opening the door a little wider to let you out, “We aren’t far from the war room.”

“How will we get there? The halls are full of people.” 

“I know a way. Come.” He takes your hand and begins leading you down the hall in the opposite direction that the guards went. 

Eventually, you reach the library. He leads you through the aisles of bookcases before stopping before one that sits against a wall. Running his fingertips over a few different books, he stops at one with a dark green cover, hooking the tip of his index finger over the lip and pulling at it.

There’s a click, and suddenly the small sliver of the bookcase swings open to reveal a dark, dank tunnel. With your anxiety already at an all time high, the thought of traversing through a tunnel in pitch black darkness has tears pricking your eyes.

“Please tell me you have a light.” 

He catches the fear in your voice and glances around quickly, spotting a lit oil lamp hanging over one of the desks. He plucks it off the wall and hands it to you, setting a hand on your waist to usher you inside before shutting the bookcase behind you. You do your best to hold it still, but in your trembling hands, the metal shakes, edges clanking rapidly as if it were vibrating as the candle flickers.

“Perhaps I should hold onto this.” Carefully, he takes the lamp back from you and gently guides you through the tunnel, shadows pressing against your side attentively when you come a little too close to tripping over the uneven ground. The tunnels are more like a maze with winding turns and forks in the path. You wonder briefly what they’re for, but that thought is quickly swallowed by the growing amount of ‘what if’s’ swirling around your head.

By the time he opens the door to the war room, you’re thoroughly panicked, breaths puffing quickly out your nose in an pathetic attempt at pretending to be calm. As he’s closing the secret passage, you shuffle a little further into the room, your back to him. When he turns around, he can see the swift but subtle rise and fall of your shoulders and realises what’s happening immediately.

Before he has a chance to comfort you, there’s an urgent knock on the door that has your heart clawing its way up your throat. Staring at it as if you could will the person to leave, you utter a shaky, high pitched, “Sasha.”

It slips past your lips by accident but neither of you have time to dwell on it. Instead, he urges you into his bedroom, having you stand in the corner just beyond the edge of the window curtains.

“Don’t move.”

“They’re going to see me!” 

“They won’t so long as you stay still.” The terrified look in your eyes makes his heart clench and he takes your face in his hands, “As long as I’m here, no harm will come to you. I promise.”

You nod and he nods back at you, pecking your forehead before rushing off to the door. 

As you listen to him speak to whoever was knocking, the shadows around you begin to lengthen, enveloping your corner of the room in darkness. Where you would have been scared, Aleksander’s shadows feel different from regular darkness. There’s an invisible sort of pressure as they wrap around your form and press against your skin. It feels as though it’s an attempt at soothing you while he’s occupied with who you assume is a guard.

“This won’t take long.” 

When the guard enters the room your breath catches in your chest and it takes the entirety of your willpower to stay put. He inspects the room painfully slowly, taking his sweet time checking every corner. When he starts heading in your direction, you have to slow your heart rate in fear that it may burst in your chest. His face is uncomfortably close to yours as he scrutinises what he thinks is a dark corner. Just as he’s about to reach out, Aleksander clears his throat.

“If you’re quite satisfied, I’d like to return to my work.” The guard whips around to face Aleksander and nods, though he still looks rather suspicious.

When he’s finally gone, you release the breath you were holding and slide down the wall to the floor, not trusting your legs to hold your weight. Your breathing is shallow and ragged and no matter how many times you attempt to suck in a deep breath, there’s never enough air.

When Aleksander returns, he calls your name oh so softly to avoid startling you, but you flinch anyway, head snapping up to look at him. You’re holding your hands close to your chest and you’re so tense your shoulders are nearly scrunched to your ears. 

“S–Sorry,” You squeeze your eyes shut and hide your face in your hands, blowing all the air out of your lungs in a forceful huff. You can’t hyperventilate if you just stop breathing.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” His tone is careful and even as he slowly moves to kneel before you, “You’re having a panic attack.” 

Is that what this is?

When you don’t respond, he realises you’re holding your breath again.

“Y/n,” You peek over your fingertips at him, “Breathe.”

You suck in a shuddering gasp and hold it for a moment before letting it out, but you still can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs, and there’s this persistent, prickly feeling under your skin that makes you squirm and shake your hands out in an attempt to rid yourself of the excess energy, “It’s- It’s like there’s not enough air.”

There’s never enough air.

The tears that pricked your eyes earlier return tenfold, wetting your lashes and trickling down your cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” You’re a little confused by the question but nod nonetheless. Slowly, he helps you to your feet. The room tilts to one side and it’s then that you feel his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as he walks you somewhere slowly. When you open your eyes again, he’s guiding you to sit down on the edge of his bed. He watches you slide up to press your back to his headboard, gaze flitting behind him to check the doorway as if someone was going to pop out and murder you where you sit.

Slowly, he sits down in front of you and offers you his hands. Shakily, you take them, and he squeezes them firmly for a few seconds before releasing his grip for the same amount of time, repeating that pattern over and over again.

“Can you feel me squeezing?” He asks and you nod, hiccuping and glancing behind him again. He leans over a bit to block your view of the door, “Focus on me, milaya. You’re safe. I’m the only one here with you.”

“But– But–.” You huff, unable to get the words out.

Still, he understands.

“How many heartbeats do you hear?” 

You close your eyes and attempt to focus, listening hard. You can hear Aleksander's beating clearly in his chest. You can hear him breathing, lungs expanding and shrinking in a steady rhythm. There’s a pleasant, tingling warmth that starts where his hands hold yours and it’s like your awareness of him gets cranked up to a hundred. Suddenly, you’re aware of his ribs expanding in time with his lungs, of the synapses firing in his brain, of the blood flowing through his veins.

 He’s still squeezing your hands consistently. You squeeze back weakly once.

Slowly, breathing becomes a little easier, your breaths syncing with his the longer you focus on him. When they finally even out, you’re exhausted, head throbbing and limbs feeling heavy and numb. 

“Sorry.” You whisper again and he shakes his head, pulling your hands up to press your knuckles to his lips.

“I already told you, you have nothing to apologise for.” He states, cradling the crown of your head in his palm when you lean forward to drop your forehead onto his shoulder.

Drained and feeling utterly helpless, you let out a choked sob and wipe at your eyes, “What are we going to do?”

There’s a long, dreadful moment of silence as he strokes your hair before he speaks against your temple.

“We’ll figure it out.” 

The pit in your stomach sinks further and you shake your head against him. His hands slide over your neck to cup your face, gently guiding you away from his shoulder in order to look at you properly. Thumbing the tears away from your waterline, he speaks ardently, “I swear on all that I hold dear, I will shield you from danger by any means necessary. I will do anything and everything in my power to ensure that you are safe.”

You can still hear his heartbeat. He means it.

You nod, sniffling and blinking away your residual tears. He pecks your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips before resting his forehead against yours, thumbs stroking your cheeks lovingly, “Rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small as he reluctantly pulls away to grab some clothes from his wardrobe. Standing up on shaky legs, you slip off the outer layer of your kefta and trade with Aleksander, taking the black night shirt from him as he hangs up your kefta. He turns around and lets you dress, only turning back around when he hears the ruffle of sheets as you slide under the covers.

As you pull the comforter up over your shoulder, he sits down on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair back from your face.

“I called you Sasha earlier.” You state softly, watching an equally soft smile spread over his lips.

“You did.”

“Is that okay?”

He leans down to press a kiss to your hairline, “More than okay, my love.”

You smile tiredly, sleep tugging at your body. The last thing you’re aware of is the feeling of Aleksander’s fingers carding through your hair before you drift off into a fitful sleep.

Strange Love Taglist:

@watersquirtpewpewboomm @sorrow-and-bliss @sande5098 @rachlovesactors @trinity-dose-stuff @maggie-da-rat @budugu @winteryoungie

[connell-waldrn]

SHADOW AND BONE (2021-) Alina Starkov + Morozova's collar

[stromuprisahat]

Disgusting old man, pure innocent heroine and the boy she’ll end up with

As mentioned here, I’ve read Angela Carter’s variation on Bluebeard’s wife and some passages remind me of how are we supposed to perceive Darklina, Alina as a heroine and her amazing endgame:

His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat.

~> Morozova’s collar anyone?

And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.

~> Heroine corrupted by a piece of  jewellery around her neck?

And there lay the grand, hereditary matrimonial bed, itself the size, almost, of my little room at home, with the gargoyles carved on its surfaces of ebony, vermilion lacquer, gold leaf; and its white gauze curtains, billowing in the sea breeze. Our bed. And surrounded by so many mirrors! Mirrors on all the walls, in stately frames of contorted gold, that reflected more white lilies than I'd ever seen in my life before.

~> Don’t forget girls, if he wants to fuck you on a huge bed in front of a mirror, he’s secretly evil.

I lay in bed alone. And I longed for him. And he disgusted me.

~> Alina’s feelings for Aleksander in a nutshell.

I could not take refuge in my bedroom, for that retained the memory of his presence trapped in the fathomless silvering of his mirrors. My music room seemed the safest place, although I looked at the picture of Saint Cecilia with a faint dread; what had been the nature of her martyrdom? My mind was in a tumult; schemes for flight jostled with one another ... as soon as the tide receded from the causeway, I would make for the mainland--on foot, running, stumbling; I did not trust that leather-clad chauffeur, nor the well-behaved housekeeper, and I dared not take any of the pale, ghostly maids into my confidence, either, since they were his creatures, all. Once at the village, I would fling myself directly on the mercy of the gendarmerie.

But--could I trust them, either? His forefathers had ruled this coast for eight centuries, from this castle whose moat was the Atlantic. Might not the police, the advocates, even the judge, all be in his service, turning a common blind eye to his vices since he was milord whose word must be obeyed? Who, on this distant coast, would believe the white-faced girl from Paris who came running to them with a shuddering tale of blood, of fear, of the ogre murmuring in the shadows? Or, rather, they would immediately know it to be true. But were all honour-bound to let me carry it no further.

~> Less chaste Winter Fete with no Baghra in sight. The monstrosity of her spouse is discovered by the heroine herself.

The door slowly, nervously opened and I saw, not the massive, irredeemable bulk of my husband but the slight, stooping figure of the piano-tuner, and he looked far more terrified of me than my mother's daughter would have been of the Devil himself. In the torture chamber, it seemed to me that I would never laugh again; now, helplessly, laugh I did, with relief, and, after a moment's hesitation, the boy's face softened and he smiled a little, almost in shame. Though they were blind, his eyes were singularly sweet.

~> Gods, I wish this was Malina. This girl’s better choice is shy, sweet, blind piano-tuner. She’s a pianist btw.

He took my hand; he pressed his arms about me. Although he was scarcely more than a boy, I felt a great strength flow into me from his touch.

~> Little comforts between the endgame couple.

'Oh, madame! I thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behaviour! Yet how could you know, a stranger, that the old name for this place is the Castle of Murder?'

How could I know, indeed? Except that, in my heart, I'd always known its lord would be the death of me.

~> “In my heart, I knew that Baghra was right.” The Darkling also has a reputation full of horrors.

I pulled the curtains close, stripped off my clothes and pulled the bedcurtains round me as a pungent aroma of Russian leather assured me my husband was once again beside me.

'Dearest!'

With the most treacherous, lascivious tenderness, he kissed my eyes, and, mimicking the new bride newly wakened, I flung my arms around him, for on my seeming acquiescence depended my salvation.

'Da Silva of Rio outwitted me,' he said wryly.' My New York agent telegraphed Le Havre and saved me a wasted journey. So we may resume our interrupted pleasures, my love.'

~> Good thing we have Baghra to save us from this. Shadow and Bone never even got to pleasures...

'Go and get them.'

'Now? This moment? Can't it wait until morning, my darling?'

I forced myself to be seductive. I saw myself, pale, pliant as a plant that begs to be trampled underfoot, a dozen vulnerable, appealing girls reflected in as many mirrors, and I saw how he almost failed to resist me. If he had come to me in bed, I would have strangled him, then.

But he half-snarled: 'No. It won't wait. Now.'

~> Unfortunatelly Alina lacks agency and could never openly use her sexuality as a weapon. Closest we get is when she uses the Darkling’s longing for company at the end of Siege and Storm, but that's very chaste, suicidal alternative.

The evidence of that bloody chamber had showed me I could expect no mercy. Yet, when he raised his head and stared at me with his blind, shuttered eyes as though he did not recognize me, I felt a terrified pity for him, for this man who lived in such strange, secret places that, if I loved him enough to follow him, I should have to die.

The atrocious loneliness of that monster!

~> The Darkling... do I need to explain?

'You do not deserve this,' he [the boy] said.

'Who can say what I deserve or no?' I said. 'I've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.'

'You disobeyed him,' he said. 'That is sufficient reason for him to punish you.'

~> The irony of Alina’s true sin being “I’ve done nothing.” and certain people claiming it’s disobedience... 

My lover [the boy] kissed me, he took my hand. He would come with me if I would lead him.

~> You are my nation, you are my flag..

On her eighteenth birthday, my mother had disposed of a man-eating tiger that had ravaged the villages in the hills north of Hanoi. Now, without a moment's hesitation, she raised my father's gun, took aim and put a single, irreproachable bullet through my husband's head.

We lead a quiet life, the three of us. I inherited, of course, enormous wealth but we have given most of it away to various charities. The castle is now a school for the blind, though I pray that the children who live there are not haunted by any sad ghosts looking for, crying for, the husband who will never return to the bloody chamber, the contents of which are buried or burned, the door sealed.

~> Once the monster’s slain, they life of charity and caring about others.

No paint nor powder, no matter how thick or white, can mask that red mark on my forehead [done by magical tainted key]; I am glad he cannot see it--not for fear of his revulsion, since I know he sees me clearly with his heart--but, because it spares my shame.

~> At the end of the trilogy, Alina remains physically untainted. Unlike the piano-tuner, Malyen had no problem feeling disgusted by Alina’s involvement with the Darkling, although the retcon tried to persuade us otherwise.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Scorched sea verse for the title game!

This is a doc where I’ve jotted down several supplementary ideas for the Darklina Roleswap AU where Nikolai is just hanging out as their third lol

There was a lot of backstory lore that didn’t make it into the fic proper that seemed fun to explore. The entire segment where the Apparat builds her up as a saint before Grisha are at all accepted in Ravka and the higher stakes of that. Then things going south, Mal dying and her turning to Ilya Morozova for help. And the vague Baghralina that happens then falls to pieces after the falling out with her father lol.

I also had ideas for two future separate scenes, that would probably be one shots in a collection. Alina being driven to tell Nikolai that she’s not actually going to human sacrifice herself in the next couple of years, can he please stop being so damn melodramatic about it???

The main fic wrapped up before the actual collaring so I also had some loose ideas for that. Here’s a snippet of it!

[kasagia]

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 4❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: The aftermath of the events leads to a (semi-)honest conversation with the general. Various other things are happening too… Warning(s): memories of drowning and trauma (children are sometimes monsters), argument, tension Word Count: 3k Taglist:@aoi-targaryen @budugu @flostvs1508 ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova’s Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 3 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 5 ~•♤♤♤•~

You wake up wrapped in warm, soft blankets. Before you even open your eyes, you hear the fire crackling in the fireplace, and judging by the softness of your bed, you can't be in the hospital wing of the Little Palace. You open an eye and hiss as the light from the fire in the fireplace and the lamps on the walls reaches your eyes.

You rub your eyes and notice that everything around you is getting darker. You open them slowly, relieved to see a few shadows floating around the room, effectively blocking too much light from reaching your eyes.

"Better?" Aleksander's whisper comes from across the room. He emerges from the shadows, just as you had imagined when your mind was still able to process anything in the icy water.

You nod, staring at him. You don't know what to say to him. Thanking him for saving your life seems... woefully insufficient. You swallow, feeling the slight tension in the room, and it's only now that you realise where you are.

"Why am I in your bedroom?" you ask, your voice cracking and rasping.

"My chambers were closer than yours." he replies, handing you a glass of water. Grateful, you take the glass from him and quench your thirst.

You can see through his poor lies. You know he's lying, and he's lying terribly. But you don't say anything. You drink the water he gave you and pretend his burning gaze doesn't do anything to you.

You see that he wants to say something. You don't push him, though, as well as you don't say anything. Because what are you supposed to tell him? What could you say to him without revealing your feelings for him? That you were afraid of death or glad that he was the one who came for you, that he didn't let you flow downstream under the ice, when all you could think about in your probably last seconds of life was… him.

"You stayed on the shore. You didn't follow me; you just let me do what I wanted. Why?" you ask, remembering his strange behavior. He shudders. You see how quickly he puts on an impassive mask on his face, hiding his true emotions from you.

"I let you save her and become a hero. I didn't want to take away your applause and credit." he lies, running his hand through your hair. He places it on your forehead, checking that the healers have cured you and that you don't have any signs of fever. You grab his hand and pull it away from your forehead, giving him an incredulous look.

"I know you. If you had known in advance what I wanted to do, you would have grabbed me by the collar of my kefta and wouldn't have let me take even one step on that damn ice."

He swallows, his eyes shifting to the fireplace behind you. But you don't let go of your hands. You both unconsciously hold them in a tight embrace. You only notice it when he nervously starts drawing patterns on your hand with his thumb.

"When I was young I… I didn't have many friends. I wasn't able to live in Little Palace with my father, so me and my mother were hiding and travelling from village to village. It was winter. I played with some other Grishas' children, who became friends with me. They found out that, beside being a shadow summoner, I was also… something else."

"Something else?" you ask, confused, wondering what he means by that. His dark eyes meet yours with such an intense, piercing gaze that you shiver.

And then you feel it—a tingling sensation that spreads to you from where your hands touch. You slowly feel the blood in your veins rushing more. You are suddenly aware of every quiet heartbeat in the area, especially one that is so close to you. The flood of new sounds in your head tells you that it's starting to hurt, but you don't let go of his hand... you know that nothing can tear you away from him right now, as he watches your reaction so intently. One wrong gesture, one wrong breath, or one tremble, and you will break the moment between you. And you can't let that happen.

"An amplifier. A living amplifier. Source of power." Aleksander explains and waits until he sees even a sliver of lust in your eyes—lust for his amplifying powers or greed for extensions of your own power.

He had been betrayed many times in the past, by many people. His mother, his sister, and his friends turned out not to be them at all. He was sure you would be next. But with each test he put you through and each piece of himself he revealed to you, somehow you... stayed. You didn't change your behaviour towards him. Except for this situation from a few days ago. In fact, he still wasn't aware of the reasons behind your distancing...

"Like a Morozova's stag?" you ask and he can't help but laugh softly. He squeezes your hand and freezes for a moment, looking down at your joined hands as he realises he still holds on to you. It was so easy for him to just be himself around you... you were a dangerous weakness. A weakness that he protected instead of nipping in the bud.

"Yes… I guess that's a good example. After all, they also wanted my bones… when your friends push you into the ice hole and they cover it with a log of wood, you realise how fake other people can be."

You can't help but reach up and cup his cheek tenderly. He flinches at your touch at first, but as you slowly start stroking his cheekbone and head, he nuzzles his face into your hand.

"You didn't deserve it." you whisper, looking at him. Your eyes meet again, and you hear your heartbeats speeding up.

You think you see tears in his eyes as he looks at you. He tangles his hand in your hair, his fingertips brushing against your cheek, stroking it as softly as a feather, making you quickly forget about his glassy eyes.

At some point, he pulls away from you. He gets out of bed and walks over to his desk as he starts looking through the reports as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just shown you a vulnerable part of himself.

"I don't blame them. Everyone wants to have the strength to defend themselves." he says this nonchalantly, standing with his back turned towards you.

"It is better to fight in a group than alone." you see the muscles in his back tense at your words, and he becomes more and more defensive, trying his best to hide behind his wall of indifference.

"Loneliness toughens you." he states matter-of-factly.

The cool tone of his voice might have made you drop the topic before, but now, lying in his bed, wrapped in his blankets and clothes—with the irrefutable proof that he cares about you much more than he does for the average Grisha or his second-in-command—you decide to pursue the topic further.

"And hurts more than the sharpest blade or worst wound you can get." he freezes at your words.

He puts the papers on the desk and takes a glass of kvass. He drinks it in one gulp, still with his back turned to you, and (changing the subject, as he usually does when he sees that you are losing the discussion or that you are intruding on topics that are too sensitive for him), he says in a tone of voice that is too calm for him:

"You ignored my order there."

"Technically, you didn't give me any orders." at your words, he slowly turns towards you. He looks you up and down and licks his lips.

"Are you trying to tell me now that you didn't hear me calling for you to come back?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge—the only warning he's giving you—your last chance to back out.

"It's not like I did something wrong." you insist on your opinion.

His face darkens, and so do his chambers, as the shadows grow stronger, shrouding the room in greater darkness. You involuntarily shiver, sensing the growing threat. Subconsciously, you know he wouldn't hurt you... not after he put so much effort into keeping you alive. Although... you saw him torture people in various ways. Even Ivan flinched once at that.

"Your little rescue operation delayed our arrival at the Little Palace." he starts calmly, but you can see in his eyes how furious he is. His heartbeat also speeds up.

"We gained a new Grisha thanks to this…"

"What would I care about some kid if I lost you?!" he bursts up suddenly, and you can't help but shiver. It seemed to be the first time he raised his voice at you; you couldn't remember if you had ever been on the receiving end of his anger. "What would I do without you?! MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND! MY HEARTRENDER! WHAT USE WOULD I HAVE FROM YOU IF YOU DIED THERE LIKE AN IDIOT?!" with every word he shouts, he takes a step towards you. You decide to get out of bed and face him in anger as well.

"Given the choice, I'd fucking do it again!" you shout at him, looking at him defiantly. You know you did the right thing, even if your life was on the line. Besides, he had no right to talk to you like that.

"Be careful how you talk to me; I'm your general! I will not have a second-in-command who does not respect my decisions and makes risky, reckless, idiotic decisions, putting herself and others at risk of death!" he growls at you in anger, shadows gathering around you.

Any normal person, with the Black General's furious gaze on them and shadows circling around both of you in a dangerous, threatening way, would have immediately backed down, let him win the argument, admitted he was right, and even begged for forgiveness. But you were never normal.

"It was my choice. I didn't drag anyone along with me!"

"YOU DRAG ME AFTER YOU! And I would send every Grisha into that damned river after you!" his challenge would probably have caught your attention if you weren't boiling with rage.

You clench your fists in anger, unconsciously manipulating his heart. His eyes widen in surprise as he watches you with bated breath, too surprised or paralysed to move.

"WHAT FOR?! If I'm such a burden, such an irresponsible commander, why did you go for me?! Why didn't you let me die?!" you shout as you walk up to him, so determined to win this verbal battle with him that you don't notice the shadows wrapping around your wrists.

You gasp as they suddenly push you against the wall. You unclench your fists, releasing his heart from your control. You look at each other, breathing deeply. Drerad slowly begins to develop within you as you realise what you have done. Shadows still hold onto your wrists.

He takes a step towards you. Shadows move out of his way as he slowly approaches you. You don't flinch, you don't beg for mercy, and you don't make a sound. Your eyes are focused on his as he gets close enough for the tips of his shoes to touch the tips of your toes. Suddenly, you're very aware that you're only in a black nightgown (that's probably his). You swallow thickly as he lifts his hand and gently pushes your hair behind your ear.

"We thought we lost you… I thought I lost you." he whispers, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "When I picked you out of the water… when Ivan said he couldn't feel your heartbeat… I had to shout at the others and summon my shadows to shut them up so he could finally tell that you were still alive."

"I..."

"And when he felt your heartbeat, we noticed you weren't breathing. You had water in your lungs. Tidemaker's hands were shaking as he pulled it out of you. One wrong move, and it could have ended your life. I think I told him to get away from you before I cut off his hands by using my shadows. I had to push the water out of you somehow myself. Ivan and Fedyor helped me. If it weren't for them, I doubt whether any of us would have returned to the Little Palace in such good condition."

"Did you get hurt?" you ask. Aleksander laughs half-mockingly and half-bitterly and shakes his head in response.

"I wish I did." he says, and you shiver as his fingers slowly move from your cheeks to your neck and shoulders. He gently caresses your shoulder, where a bruise had formed from how hard his grip was on you as he pulled you out of the water a few days ago. "I… I've already lost so many good soldiers. Friends… The list is very long, and it seems like it is only getting longer with each passing day. I can't write your name on it either. I can't lose you too… I…" you hold your breath, waiting for his next words. His eyes are fixed on your bruises and small scratches that the healers have not yet healed. He licks his lips and takes a breath to say something. But he closes his eyes and moves away from you. You shiver as your skin is suddenly deprived of his electric touch. "I've invested too much in your training. It would be a waste of time if I had to train another heartrender again to be my second-in-command."

"So? This is who I am? Your investment?"

"Each of you is." he replies with a shrug. He turns his back to you. His shadows follow him as he walks back to the desk and takes a glass of his kvass.

"You don't jump into an ice hole for everyone. Or take off your coat." you joke, and he chuckles, both of you forgetting about the argument between you that happened just a few minutes ago. He turns towards you and gives you an 'almost' affectionate look.

"Not everyone is my right hand." you smile at his response. You walk up to him and grab his hand, squeezing it as you look into his eyes.

"Thank you, Aleksander." you whisper, making him shiver. He's not used to having anyone's gratitude.

Not the honest one. It's starting to dawn on him that he's not used to anything involving you. And maybe that was what kept him drawn to you like a moth to a flame, seeking and wanting something he had never experienced in all the centuries he had lived.

"Anytime." he whispers back, entranced by your gaze. He knows that this… tenderness, understanding, and compassion would've passed the second you knew the truth about him. The truth of his origin, age, plans with the fold, and for Ravka… His mother could be a mean old witch, but she was right about one thing. At the end of the day, no one will be there to stay by his side… at least not in the way he desperately wanted. "Don't ever dare to do that again." he says, clearing his throat. "I won't always be around to pull you out of the river… I also don't like seeing you as white as a corpse with blue lips. You also disobeyed my command… but considering the circumstances, let's just say I'll turn a blind eye to it this once."

"You are a very merciful general." you say teasingly, and you walk over to his desk, looking at the map where he marked some positions with his wooden soldiers. You snort quietly, amused. Boys will be boys… even the fearsome general of the Second Army.

"You have no idea..." he replies. You turn towards him, almost bumping into his chest.

You stand close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. Your gaze involuntarily moves from his eyes to his lips. You lick your own, imagining for a moment what it would be like to kiss him. Your gaze quickly returns to his eyes, the pupils of which are suddenly dilated.

He tangles his hand in your hair and leans down so that your noses are touching. You hold your breath and close your eyes, taking in his scent and warmth. You hear your hearts beating at an equally fast pace in anticipation.

"I would never let you die. You're my burden to endure." he leans in and whispers, referring to your previous words that you shouted at him. His lips brush against your earlobe, and you can't help but shiver. "And I can't... I can't allow myself to lose you..."

"Aleksander." you whisper, opening your eyes and staring at him as he pulls back slightly. His face is still close to yours, his gaze moving between your eyes and your lips.

His thumb strokes your neck as he slowly leans towards you…

A knock on his door makes you both pull away from each other. Ivan enters with Fedyor. Aleksander clears his throat and listens to what they have to say. As Ivan talks to him, Fedyor looks you up and down and gives you an amused smirk. You roll your eyes at him and place a hand on your flushed cheek, trying to calm yourself down... And don't curse these two for their wonderful timing.

However, all your efforts are in vain when you catch the general's gaze for a moment. The moment between the two of you from a few seconds ago plays in your head, and the possibilities of how it could have ended are haunting your mind.

You groan internally, already hearing Fedyor's teasing about that.

The only comforting thing about all this situation was hearing that Aleksander's heart sped up every time he looked your way. And you can't help but wonder… maybe you could be more to him after all?

You shake your head and quietly leave his chambers. You couldn't stay there forever, even if you wanted to. Besides, you had Christmas to plan. And Winter Fete to get ready to…

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Part Ten

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: The hunt for the sea whip has begun, but a number of obstacles stand in your way, demanding more from you than you ever thought possible.

Warnings: canon level violence, heartrender attacks the reader, near death experiences, mentions of blood and death, fainting.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist • Next Part

“General Kirigan.”

Sturmhond greets Aleksander with a nod, as he moves away from the railing that overlooks the docks, before he smiles brightly at you. Aleksander glances between the two of you for a brief moment before he responds.

“Sturmhond, I presume.”

The privateer’s smile twists into his usual confident smirk.

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

Aleksander doesn’t seem impressed.

“My assistant tells me you have a ship and crew ready for us.”

Sturmhond gestures out to the docks, where you see a large whaling ship being prepared to sail.

“I’m not even going to ask where you got that from.” You remark, looking over at the large ship in front of you.

“Now you’re getting the hang of things.” He teases with a smirk, nudging your shoulder and you roll your eyes despite your smile.

“The previous owner won’t be giving us any trouble, will they?” You ask with a raised brow.

He shakes his head, confident smile unfazed by your questioning.

“They shouldn’t do.”

“If you want our money, you will need to do better than shouldn’t do.” Aleksander states clearly.

Confusion in your eyes, you glance over at him but struggle to read his expression. Whatever is on his mind is something that you haven’t seen from him before.

Sturmhond eyes you for a moment, and you shrug in response.

“I won that vessel, fair and square, last night.” He states smoothly, looking straight at Aleksander.

Sturmhond’s face softens into something teasing as he looks over at you.

“Your assistant here clearly just believes the worst of me.” With that he winks at you, and rocks back on his heels before he turns and strolls away.

Blinking a few times, you adjust the collar of your coat as you frown.

“What was that?”

“I think he likes you.”

That only confuses you even more.

“Oh.”

“Perhaps I should inform him of your engagement. Though I’m sure a pirate won’t see the Crown Prince as much competition.”

Part of you believes Aleksander is only joking, but his words have you reaching out to stop him.

“No. Don’t.”

He tilts his head aside in confusion, eyes scouring your face as he observes your concern. Glancing around, you ensure that no one is close enough to overhear you as you step closer to Aleksander and murmur,

“Sturmhond is Prince Nikolai.”

Aleksander’s frown deepens, and you step away from him.

“Is there anything else I should know?” He asks.

“A lot of his crew are Grisha.”

“Ravkan?”

“A mixture I think. But some of them might be.” At that, Aleksander seems to be pulled deep into his thoughts. “You can’t blame them for not wanting to serve the Crown.” You add softly.

“And yet, ironically they are still serving the Crown.”

“Illegitimate crown.” You add, turning around.

You have barely taken a step away from him, before Aleksander takes a hold of the back of your coat, bunching the fabric near your waist to pull you back against him. Dropping his head down he speaks lowly,

“You know who his father is. Don’t you?”

“I can’t remember his name. But if you gave me a list of the last few Fjerdan ambassadors then I think I’d be able to pick him out.”

“Well that could certainly come in handy.” He muses quietly. Turning around, you give him a small smile.

“You know me, full of handy little facts.”

Aleksander regards you for a moment, and you notice how close you are to him. His lips part, and your gaze falls down to watch his next words leave them.

“Do you like him?” He asks.

“Who?”

“Sturmhond.”

“I met him yesterday.” You remark. At the look on Aleksander’s face, you decide to give your answer more thought. “I don’t dislike him. I know we can trust him. That’s all I can say.”

»»---------------------►

There’s a creak of floorboards shifting, and the wind howls outside the small window in front of the makeshift desk that you and Aleksander share now that you’re at sea. It’s been nearly two weeks into your journey, and you’re approaching the Bone Road.

Aleksander shifts under the covers, and you glance over at him once again. Ever since the storm began, a tension had set into Aleksander’s shoulders, and tonight his sleep has been particularly restless.

You leave the candles burning on the desk, knowing that he doesn’t enjoy sleeping in total darkness, as you walk slowly over to the bed. There’s a small sound in the back of his throat, and he wakes with a start.

“Aleksander.” You whisper softly. He looks over at you with wide eyes as you settle down on top of the covers beside him. “Are you alright?”

He nods, but in that moment there’s a flash of lightning, and you see him grip the bedsheets tightly between his fingers.

“Is it the storm?” He nods again. “Can I join you?”

It seems strange, asking Aleksander if you can share the bed when the two of you have slept beside one another so many times before. But this is different.

Instead of answering, he shifts over in the bed, allowing room for you to slip under the covers beside him. A boom of thunder echoes overhead, and you can feel the reverberation of it in your chest.

Aleksander’s jaw is tense, and you can hear the strict control he has on his breathing. Your heart aches for him.

The room Sturmhond had offered Aleksander was well insulated, meaning that you were only wearing your underwear as well as one of Aleksander’s shirts. When you reach out towards him, your fingers smooth over his bare chest.

He relaxes a little underneath your touch, as you slide your palm up towards the nape of his neck. For a moment, you play with the short locks of hair that sit there, and Aleksander’s eyes flutter closed.

Once he seems calmer, you cup the back of his neck and provide a reassuring squeeze to the tense muscles there. In response, a little more of the tension leaves his spine. When another flash of lightning illuminates the room, Aleksander grasps onto your waist.

Tugging gently on his body, you encourage him to lie over you, and his arms instantly wrap around your waist. Thunder crackles and he tightens his hold on you. He buries his face into your chest, and you stroke through his hair as you whisper assurances to him.

“It’s alright Sasha.”

Once you realise what you’ve said, you go still, waiting for his response. He tilts his head up to look at you with a raised brow.

“Sasha?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I should have asked you first.” He breathes out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” He shakes his head again, before he settles back down onto your chest.

“Baghra was the last person to call me Sasha.” He murmurs quietly. “She hasn’t done so in a very long time.”

“And you want me to?” You ask softly.

“I do.”

“Okay… Sasha.”

Fingers tangled in his hair, you can feel his smile against your skin and a warmth spreads through your chest.

»»---------------------►

Ivan comes to wake you and Aleksander early one morning. Heavy mist clings to the surface of the water, even trailing over the other end of the deck.

It’s cold, which you should be used to by now. You can’t remember the last time you stepped outside and felt warm. Rubbing your hands together, you try and encourage some warmth to remain in your body.

As another shudder runs through your body, you turn to Aleksander and grumble in a low voice.

“What was it with your grandfather and creating creatures that like the cold?”

The corner of his mouth quirks in amusement, and he steps closer, shielding you from the breeze as he remarks,

“Baghra must have been the exception to that rule.”

A small laugh falls from your lips, and some warmth returns to you at the sight of his smile.

Aside from a few murmurs of conversation, the crew are quiet. There’s an intangible spark of tension in the air. As if everyone, not just Mal, can sense that you’re close.

All of you stand still, waiting, as Mal gives a few final directions, which Sturmhond follows at his place in front of you and Aleksander on the upper deck.

Then someone cries out from up in the rigging.

“Two points of the starboard bow!”

A bright white, shimmering shape unfurls itself from within the mist. The early morning light casts a golden shine over pearlescent scales. Dark eyes stare resolutely at your ship, and a rush of fear floods through you.

You had warned Aleksander that the sea whip wouldn’t go down without a fight. The two of you had run over several ideas to capture the creature. Aleksander had decided to forgo longboats, instead you would use the size of your ship to your advantage.

Sturmhond’s crew seize their weapons. Guns and grappling hooks sparkle in the morning sunlight.

The first hook misses, splashing harmlessly into the water. The sea whip bucks it’s tail, rocking the waves. You stumble into Aleksander, and he grasps onto your arms as the deck tilts. Another hook flies over the edge of the ship, piercing into the sea whip’s hide.

It thrashes, trying to free itself, when another hook meets its mark. The deck tilts even further, and you cling tightly onto Aleksander.

“Alina.” You call out. She looks over at you, stumbling into Mal as she does. “Would your Cut be able to reach the sea whip?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head.

“I can’t use the Cut.”

It startles you, for a moment, when you realise that she hasn’t used the Cut yet. But she will.

“Yes, you can. Trust me, Alina.”

She backs away from you.

“No, I can’t.”

If Aleksander hadn’t been gripping on to you so tightly, you’re certain you would have fallen and cracked your head against the deck with the force of the next wave.

“It’s really not that hard.” You insist, remembering how she had summoned the Cut without even thinking, at the end of the first book.

“And you’d know all about that wouldn’t you?” She snaps.

You know what she sees of you. Arrogant otkazat’sya who thinks they understand how being a Grisha works. When in reality, it’s almost the opposite. You know, better than she does, what she’s capable of. Gritting your teeth, you remark in a low voice.

“Yes I would.”

Looking around frantically, you see the crew attempting to wrestle the sea whip into submission. It won’t go down quietly. After a violent jerk, one of the crewmen loses his footing and falls over the side.

“Man overboard!” Someone calls out.

Your mind is filled with memories of this chapter. Bloodstained water, screams and cries, the snap of bones breaking between the sea whips teeth.

“Our people are risking their lives. The least you could do is try.” You snap at Alina.

Turning away from her, you stagger towards Sturmhond who’s at the helm, gripping onto the wheel.

“Isn’t this fun?” He remarks, breathing out a laugh despite the shaking strain of his arms as he holds the ship level with the sea whip, fighting against the waves.

“I have a suggestion.” His sweat covered brow lifts in response, and you continue. “Tie the ropes to the mast, then turn hard to port. It’ll give us one more clean shot for a hook to bring it down.”

“And if it tears off our mast?”

“Then we’re screwed.”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. Then he calls out the orders to his crew, following your directions. You grip tightly onto the railing, as Sturmhond steers the ship away from the sea whip.

The creature cries out, a haunting melody that rings in your ears. You’re reminded of the stag. Of that chime that had called you to it, only this is amplified by a thousand. You see the last grappling hook fly out, burying itself into the sea whip’s side.

With a mournful cry, the sea whip slumps weakly.

“Nets!” Sturmhond cries out. “Ready the platform.”

A large board of wood is lowered down to the surface of the sea, and the crew use the hooks to steer the weakened sea whip onto the platform. A net is tossed down over the sea whip’s head, preventing it from thrashing any further.

The relief among you all is sudden, as people turn to one another in a mixture of disbelief, shock, and delight. There’s laughter, and people cling to one another. The man who had fallen overboard has a towel thrown around his shoulders as his crew mates laugh affectionately at him.

A smile blooms over your face, as you look at Aleksander.

You did it.

Your celebration is rather short lived.

“A ship, moi soverenyi.” Ivan says, gesturing to a distant shape on the horizon.

“Are they flying colours?” Aleksander asks, looking over at Sturmhond. The privateer peers through his telescope, searching over the smooth sea.

For a brief moment, you believe that it’s no one. Some passing fishermen.

“That’s Sokolov’s flag.” Sturmhond remarks, closing his telescope with a grin expression.

“Who?” You ask with a frown.

“Viktor Sokolov. He’s a Grisha pirate, claims loyalty to no country. That’s where his soldiers get their name from - nichevo’ya.”

At the sound of their name, a shiver runs through you. Nichevo’ya. That’s what the Darkling had called his shadow monsters.

“The nothings?” You translate, and Sturmhond nods.

Aleksander searches your expression intently. He knows you don’t know much Old Ravkan.

“You’ve heard of them?” He prompts.

“No.” You admit, swallowing hard as panic settles in. Of course there would be a group of vicious Grisha pirates that want to steal the sea whip from you. “We can’t outrun them in this ship.”

Aleksander nods, immediately joining in on your thinking. If you haven’t heard of these pirates, then you and Aleksander are on even ground when it comes to planning your next move.

“Even if we tried to flee, we would need to abandon the sea whip.” He reasons.

“We can’t let him take its power.”

“We can’t risk sending Alina down there. If they are Grisha, their ship will be on us in a matter of minutes.”

“What if we send David with her?” You suggest, and Aleksander nods slowly, understanding your plan.

“She can claim its power instantly. We will have to buy them quite some time though.”

Everyone around you seems a little stunned, either by your quick thinking or the way Aleksander’s thoughts flow with yours, you’re not sure. You look over at Sturmhond who nods.

“It’s daring.” He admits. “I like it.”

Then he turns to issue orders to his crew. They rush to their positions, and Aleksander begins to command your Grisha, readying them for a fight. Alina looks wary at the thought of being anywhere near the sea whip, and she doesn’t speak to you.

Just as you’re preparing for her and David to be lowered down to where the sea whip is bound, the deck tilts and you nearly fall into Aleksander.

“What’s happening?” You ask. His brows furrow darkly.

“Sokolov is a tidemaker. A powerful one.” Aleksander looks down at the water between your ship and the captured sea whip. “He’s using an undercurrent to keep us from reaching the sea whip.”

You swear in a low voice, running a hand over your hair with frustration. Smoke creeps across the water towards your ship, likely brought on by Sokolov’s squallers to impair your vision.

“Would your Cut be able to reach their ship from here?” You suggest. Aleksander shakes his head.

“A Cut that large is too dangerous to summon at this proximity, even for me.”

You’re running out of ideas at an alarming rate.

Then the soldiers climb up onto your deck.

Sturmhond’s crew respond instantly, fighting to keep control of their ship. Your own Grisha jump into the fray, and soon there’s only a small group of you on the upper deck.

“Zoya.” You call out to the nearby squaller. “If I jump, will you be able to carry me over to the other side of Sokolov’s current?”

Keeping her head low, she peers over the edge of the ship, eyeing the current swirling possessively around the sea whip. She nods.

“I think so.”

“Absolutely not.” Aleksander states firmly.

“We can’t let him get the sea whip.” You cry out in protest as the deck sways, and he shakes his head.

“Someone else.” He insists.

“Even through the smoke, they’ll see your keftas. I’m otkazat’sya, they won’t look twice at me.”

Aleksander holds your gaze for a long moment, and you know he’s running through every possible option in his mind. But it’s no use. This is your only option. You’re out of time.

“If you’re doing something, I suggest you decide now.” Zoya warns you. The current is pulling the sea whip further away from your ship, but your eyes stay on Aleksander. After another second of hesitation, he nods.

Shrugging off your jacket, you hold your knife ready in one hand and step back in order to gain a run up. Zoya holds her hands ready to summon enough wind to carry you.

You’re suddenly reminded of one of your nightmares, drowning in ice cold water before being eaten alive by the sea whip. Inhaling an unsteady breath, you give Zoya a nod.

Saints above, do not let me die today.

With that single prayer, you run towards the side of the ship, feet pushing up onto the railing as you leap out towards the open sea. Zoya’s breeze pushes your body through the air, and you land in still icy water.

The chill of the sea is freezing, and your very bones ache with the cold as you kick your feet and rise to the surface. Gasping for breath, you look around wildly, searching for the sea whip. Swimming in its direction, you realise how large it is as you get closer.

There isn’t time for you to climb onto the small platform, so you remain half submerged in the water as you reach out to the mythical sea whip.

“I’m so sorry about this.” You say, smoothing a hand over the slippery scales by the creature’s eye. It’s deep dark eyes stare intently at you, and a pang of guilt hits you.

Either you kill the sea whip yourself, ensuring that no one gets his power. Or you free him, and pray that you all survive unscathed.

Gritting your teeth, you make a decision.

As quickly as you can, you begin to saw at the ropes binding the sea whip down to the platform. The net comes away easily but the ropes require a little more work. They had been reinforced by fabrikators, but luckily the fibres wear away when you angle your steel in the right direction.

Then you choke on a gasp, and almost drop your knife as your vision swims. Warm blood drips from your nose, and you cough weakly as you try to stay conscious.

One of Sokolov’s heartrenders must be constricting your heart. Terror fills you. Then the pain eases slightly, and you can feel your pulse thrumming a little stronger than before. A glance back at your ship confirms your suspicions, Ivan is keeping your heart going.

He’s one of the strongest corporalki that you know, but the distance will soon be too much for him to reach you. Fighting down the panic, and the pain, you reach for the final rope.

Tears fill your vision, and you cry out as you give one resolute swipe at the weakened rope. It snaps. The sea whip bursts free, and you go under the waves.

The motion of the sea whip’s tail shifts the water around you, pushing you into Sokolov’s undercurrent. Thrashing violently, you struggle against the water, and your own tiring body.

Then you’re hauled up to the surface, your lungs burning as you draw in shuddering breaths, gathering your strength to fight off whoever had grabbed you.

“You’re alright.” A familiar voice assures you, holding you tight. “It’s me.”

“Aleksander!” You gasp, gripping firmly onto his soaked shirt. He must have abandoned his kefta before he had jump in.

“I have you.” He says, his voice rough with exertion as he keeps you both above water.

With Aleksander doing the majority of the work, you swim back over to your ship, and the crew help to lift the two of you back onto the deck.

Your clothes are soaked through, and Aleksander still has one hand fisted into your shirt as you both collapse onto the wooden planks of the deck. You slump onto your back, every part of you aching and cold, as you try to catch your breath.

“You are never to do anything like that ever again.” Aleksander states firmly, but there’s a wrecked quality to his voice that tugs at your heartstrings.

“I don’t plan on it.” Pulling yourself up weakly into a sitting position, you drop your forehead against his shoulder and murmur a quiet, “I’m sorry, Sasha.”

He holds onto the back of your neck with one hand, and lifts his head up to survey your ranks.

“Any casualties?”

“A few.” Sturmhond says. “Your healers are seeing to them now, there shouldn’t be anything serious.” Aleksander stands, and he extends a hand to help you up. “Sokolov’s soldiers retreated as soon as the sea whip was freed.”

Aleksander nods, and you feel too weak to celebrate your victory.

There’s a red blur at the corner of your vision, and you turn towards it, extending a hand to grasp at the sleeve of a kefta.

“Thank you, Ivan.” You say in a grateful whisper.

His eyes scour over you, soaked to the skin, blood under your nose, and eyes heavy with the exhaustion of having your heart meddled with by two warring heartrenders. He nods in response, his eyes softening minutely.

When you turn back to face him, Aleksander has his kefta back on, and aside from his wet hair, he barely looks like he had just taken a swim along the Bone Road with the sea whip. Quite unlike you.

He wraps his cloak around your body, rubbing at your arms as he presses his chest against your back. Blinking in confusion, you realise a warm breeze is drying your clothes. Zoya gives you a small nod, and you smile gratefully at her.

There’s a rushing sound of water churning violently, and you stare open mouthed as the sea whip rises above the sea, towering over Sokolov’s ship. As it’s body tilts forward, you realise what it’s about to do.

“Everybody get down!” You cry out, at the same time Sturmhond yells,

“Hit the deck!”

Aleksander grabs you, and you cling to the front of his kefta as he ducks the two of you down beside the edge of the ship. His grip is hard, holding your body close to his with one arm, whilst the other grasps onto a rope attached to the ship.

When the sea whip hits the ocean, curling the length of its body around Sokolov’s ship, you hear the roar of the resulting waves. Squeezing your eyes shut, water sprays over your head as the sea whip crushes the ship in its coils. The deck of your ship tilts, and Aleksander tightens his hold on you fiercely.

For a long moment you’re subjected to clinging desperately onto Aleksander as the deck rocks back and forth violently. The sound of wood breaking and shattering echoes through the thunder of the waves.

Then silence.

Waves sway at a normal rate, and the sea is devoid of any sign of what had just occurred. A pirate battle featuring a mythical sea dragon.

The crew and your Grisha slowly crawl out of the nooks they had safeguarded themselves into. Whilst you might all be soaked, and you’re still trembling in Aleksander’s arms, everyone seems unharmed.

Then the rushing sound returns and the sea whip rises from the waterline.

Sturmhond yells out commands, and his people scramble to retrieve their weapons.

“Wait!” You cry out, legs wobbling as you rush down the stairs and hurry over the deck to stand in front of the sea whip. Aleksander follows you closely.

“Hold your fire.” He orders, and despite the fact that they are mostly Sturmhond’s crew, they lower their guns and grappling hooks.

The sea whip doesn’t tower over your ship like he had done to Sokolov’s ship, instead he lowers his head down so that his chin rests on the edge of the deck in front of you.

Resting your forehead against the chilly skin of the sea whip’s nose, you flatten your palm against the front of his face.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

There’s quiet acceptance in his eyes, the same expression that you had seen from the stag. The amplifiers give out their power on their own terms. Giving him a nod of understanding, you turn back to Aleksander.

“Where’s Alina?”

She heads down the stairs, eyeing the sea whip cautiously, and Sturmhond hands her a knife as she nears you.

Stepping away, you allow her to approach the sea whip. A wave of dizziness seizes you, and you inhale slowly, turning away as Alina takes his life. Blood trickles over the deck, and your stomach twists.

Walking towards Aleksander, you can see the concern on his face. It’s likely you don’t look very well. Black spots fill your vision, and sound becomes distorted as you stumble forward. Fortunately, you manage to make it into his outstretched arms before you lose consciousness.

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse

In Another Life Tag List: @parabatai-winchester @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @jambolska-grozdova @mxacegrey @budugu @cynthianokamaria @scarlettqueen190 @eloquentree @hufflely-puffly

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia

[aleksanderscult]

Hello!! I love your analysis sm 🖤🖤

Also happy birthday!!

I was wondering if you could analysis the scene in the first book when Alina and the darkling are in the queen's sitting room? Also, in the second book the scene where the darkling impersonates Mal through the tether? I am curious to know your opinions on these scenes!! Thank you!!

Hello!! And thank you so much, anon, for the birthday wishes!💛💛😍

And I'm so glad that you like my analyses. Really you can interpret the Darkling's scenes and his scenes with Alina in one million ways. He's such an interesting character. And the fact that you enjoy this too makes me so happy🥰🥹

Anyway, back to business. Another anon commissioned me to analyse the tether scene where the Darkling impersonates Mal and kisses Alina, so here I'm gonna analyse their winter fete make out. (Everybody in this fandom have such good taste and it's 🤌👌)

(random but, in the beginning, I thought you wanted me to analyze the scene where Alina and the Darkling talk after the former had her first audience with the Queen. And at the last minute I realized you mean their make out in that room. I'm stupid💀. If you mean the other, former scene tell me 😊)

I already feel this is gonna take two parts as well🥲 (I hope the people that follow this page don't mind me overanalyzing things)

(Part 2 here 🖤)

I'm gonna start from here because this is the moment where the Darkling gives up his hundred of years well-thought-out plan and gives in to desire. After what happened to the lake and realized that his feelings for Alina have taken an unexpected romantic turn, he left. Vanished. Firstly, because he's the Darkling and he has duties to fulfill and secondly because he tried to ignore them, push them out by staying away from her. But, apparently, it was impossible for him and in that moment we see him giving in to his feelings.

From the way he abruptly takes her hand, pushes her fast through the crowd and makes them invisible so no one can see them or interrupt them we can see how much he wanted to do this and for how long. He's like: "Fuck it. I'm going to do it now 'cause I've held myself back a looong time".

I want to comment two things here.

1) I think he brought her to the Queen's sitting room because it was the first room available. The closest one and since he was in a hurry to get it on, it was the first room he thought of. And because he knew that no one else would be there or get there since everybody were too busy crying, laughing and partying *insert screaming remembering how they interrupted them afterwards*

2) He really didn't miss not even one second 😭The moment the door closed he let out his bottled desire. Seriously, for how many months he was holding himself back??😭

Well, my dear Alina, it was nothing like any kiss before because the man you have before you has had centuries of practice. Really his life has been full of this as the author has said.😌

And it's very interesting to notice that even before Alina wore Morozova's collar, she and the Darkling had already a deep connection. "Like calls to like" had already applied to them long before the stag was killed.

See what I mean?

Alina could feel his emotions even though no one else could. So there was already a type of bond, a connection that united them. Their powers and emotions were already entwined before even Alina got the amplifiers.😏

In case you want to know my opinion in this, I believe he's honest here. Morozova's herd was found after so many years of search and the Darkling is in a dark room making out with Alina. His priority, people😏😏

On one hand, he enjoys what he's doing right now because he can finally express his desire after so many months of avoiding her. But, on the other hand, he doesn't like it AT ALL. He even hates saying that line. Because he admits something that he wishes wasn't true. He should desire to go to the war room but instead he's here pinning Alina to the wall.

(Also the GROWLING! He wants to eat her, guys😭. But also he's angry with himself)

Alina, girl, you got it right 👍

Btw, what is it with him and his throat fetish??😭

(Not that we, the fandom, mind)

It's kind of interesting how honest he tries to be. In the beginning of their meeting he wasn't that much but here, I think, he wants to be truthful to her. He tries to open up a little. But still not completely. This is a moment of weakness for him. And he's torn between making her his and going after the stag. Between opening himself up to her and closing off. (He's struggling for real🥲)

Alina can you please shut up with the questions and let him do his job we're dying here😭😭

No hate to Alina, really. But for God's sake just continue smooching without talking.😩

The Darkling taking his time exploring that black kefta. A gift from him to her, a sign that he already feels possessive of her. And here in one of the greatest celebrations of the year, he wanted to show everyone who she belongs to.

No lies detected here, my dear people.😊

But there's something he mentions here that is very interesting.

"I should be planning our trip north".

That says a lot. He planned to take Alina with him to the north and then he would give her Morozova's collar as a gift. With joy and willingness from Alina's part. That was his plan.

But then everything fucked up.

Alina easily believed Baghra's words and run away, so that proved to the Darkling that she's not to be trusted. Add to this that Alina reunited with Mal and started a romance with him and we have the Darkling going feral and forcing Alina to wear the collar and control her powers without her permission.

Back in the tent scene we can see how this analysis is confirmed since the Darkling:

A) doesn't celebrate the fact that he found Morozova's stag after centuries of searching and took its antlers. Instead he sat sulking in a chair and drinking kvas silently.

B) he said to Alina "that was never my intention" when she accused him of making her his slave.

Conclusion: he wanted the both of them to go north together, kill the stag, Alina wearing the antlers happily and then, I think, he would reveal piece by piece his true plans to her.

You know what? I'm about to say it.

I'm about to say it.

Aleksander Morozova has a throat fetish and is a butt guy.

There. I said it.🙂

And it's canon (at least for me🤷).

Also, this moment alone is ten times sexier and more sensual than the Malina sex scene. Change my mind.

The way he wants to dominate her.🫠

One line. One thousand meanings. One iconic moment.

Translation No 1: "The problem with wanting you, is that it makes me weak" a.k.a. she makes him weak and Alina is his weakness.

Translation No 2 is kind of intriguing (and random) 'cause Aleksander always wanted a safe haven for the Grisha. Prestige and respect. So that made him kinda weak too. Vulnerable to the wars he fought and risks he took in order to provide that haven to them. And in the end it killed him (twice).

After this he lets out all his emotions through the next kiss and makes it more intense. He just let go (rip my feels).

Guess what? I need a second part again. 🥲

It's gonna be the last one I promise ❤️

[thebadgerclan]

Most Precious

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: He will never sacrifice that which is most precious to him...

The season 2 teaser set loose the writing bug, so here we are!  I might make a post about my thoughts about the teaser later, but when Aleksander says the line, “are you willing to sacrifice that which is most precious to you?”, I think he’s using the tether between he and Alina from the collar, so that’s how I wrote this

Are you willing to sacrifice that which is most precious to you?  The question was deliberate, meant to invoke thoughts of her tracker, of her friends, but it also made Aleksander wonder: was he willing to sacrifice what was most precious to him?  The answer was immediate and simple; no.  No matter how gruesome this fight became, how bloody his search for the firebird would be, how desperate his need to reclaim the Sun Summoner was, Aleksander would never sacrifice you, his beloved wife.

He pulled out of the tether, fully occupying his body once more.  You were seated on the bed at his side, draped in your black kefta, your hand on his shoulder.  Aleksander looked at you, seeing the concern and love on your face, and shook his head.  “Nothing,” he said, pulling you into his arms.  “No sign of where she’s holed herself up.”  You took his hand and squeezed it, resting your head on his shoulder.  “We’ll find her,” you consoled, bringing your husband’s hand to your lips and kissing it.  “Give it time.”

You hadn’t been on the whaler with him, you hadn’t seen how Sturmhond and his men had turned traitor on him, how they snatched Alina up and fled, leaving his soldiers and the ship in ruin.  You hadn’t seen how Aleksander had set his nichevo’ya loose, the havoc they’d wreaked.  But you had seen him return to the Grand Palace, looking broken and defeated.

And you’d done what you did best; helped to pull him together.  Just as you had after your husband emerged from the fold, when you’d cleaned and bandaged his wounds, helped to dress him in a clean kefta, and walked by his side to meet his soldiers.  That was why Aleksander adored you so, among hundreds of other reasons: you never made him feel weak or lesser, you simply helped him to build himself back up.

Aleksander was soon called away, and shortly after, you were summoned to attend to your own duties.  When evening fell and you returned to your rooms, it was to find your husband paging through the portraits from your wedding.  Aleksander was so engrossed that he didn’t hear you enter, and you peered over his shoulder.  There were scenes from the ceremony as well as the feast, and your husband was lingering over the portrait of your first dance.

One of your hands rested on his shoulder, the other was clasped in his.  Your wedding gown was dazzling gold, shimmering in the candlelight, while Aleksander wore his kefta, and the look on his face could only be described as reverence.  “Feeling sentimental this evening?” you asked, making him startle slightly.  “Yes, I suppose I am,” he replied, tugging on your arm.  You happily settled in his lap, sighing when he pressed his lips to yours.

“Do you know what I asked Alina today?” Aleksander asked, and you shook your head.  “I asked her if she was willing to sacrifice what is most precious to her.  But that made me wonder if that was something I would be capable of.”  You remained silent, knowing that whatever your husband was working through in his mind, he would share it when he was ready.  For several minutes, Aleksander was quiet, his face contorting into a grimace periodically.

In his mind, he was watching you die.  Watching you be dismembered by those traitor Heartrenders, watching that bastard privateer hold a blade to your throat, watching as Alina sliced you in two with the Cut.  Aleksander could see it so clearly, the bargain she would make: returning to him in exchange for you, “one of yours for one of ours,” Sturmhond would say.  And your husband would raze the entire nation to keep that from happening.

“Y/N, you are what is most precious to me, and I could never sacrifice you, never in a thousand years.  There is nothing I will not do to protect you, milaya, I will defend you with everything I am.  You are my entire existence, without you, I am nothing.”  You shifted in your husband’s lap, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.  Aleksander’s mind was at once blissfully calm, and when you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his.

“Aleksander, I know that you would never sacrifice me, and I know that you’ll do anything to keep me safe.  I love you, Sasha, and I am with you, through all of this.”  Your husband held you tightly, carding a hand through your hair.  “I love you too, Y/N.  I will never let anything happen to you.”  The Sun Summoner’s whereabouts were unknown, there was a war on the horizon, but Aleksander would never let harm come to you.  You were far too precious to him.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n @marauders-wife

Ch-39 ~New ideas~

Anaya was heading out of the war room after a meeting when she heard a low voice from behind, "Umm...Anaya?" she was surprised to see David standing near her with his shoulders hunched as she turned behind

"Yes, David?" 

"Umm.. I was wondering if you'd be willing to assist me in a new invention. You know, since you've some practice with that?" he asked hesitantly

He was right. She had in fact, had some experience in the Materialki field as she'd learned more about their work and such from her mother than she had at school. At one point, she'd attained an interest for such and had attempted to make a miniature nuclear reactor but had resulted in setting it on fire and had to put it out all by herself. She never told anyone that.

But she had assisted David in some of his projects back when they'd still been at school.

"Yeah, I can try" she agreed. Maybe getting back into all this would be a good distraction from the apprehensiveness looming in her head.

She followed David to the Etherealki workshop. She saw several Fabrikators hunched over their tables, too deeply indulged in their work to notice her.

David went to his table and gestured at the sketch of an object appearing as a half sphere. "This, is a reflective bowl. Alina mentioned that her powers seem to be the only thing that draws the nichevo'ya away. So I was thinking of a way to make something that can sort of, magnify her powers and reflect them" he explained

"So like, a reflective lens but better?" Anaya asked, observing the drawings

"Yes, I just need help with the design finding the right angles they should be adjusted at. Maybe you can help?"

"Yeah" she finally nodded after contemplating for a moment

                                       ..............................................................................................

They began working on the bowls and Anaya helped David with the equations until Alina showed up.

The girl seemed to be surprised to see Anaya at the Materialki workshop, though it was unusual for a Summoner to be there.

"Anaya, what are you doing here?" she asked with a slight smile

"Oh, just attempting to help out David with something he's working on"

“What are you working on?” Alina asked, her attention turning towards David

He blinked. “Dishes.”

“Ah.”

“Reflective bowls,” he said. “Based on a parabola.”

“How ... interesting?” Alina managed.

 “It might be a way to magnify your power.”

“Like the mirrors in my gloves?” 

“Sort of,” said David. “If I get it right, it will be a much bigger way to use the Cut.”

“And if you get it wrong?”

“Either nothing will happen, or whoever’s operating it will be blown to bits.”

"Wait, you left out that part for me" Anaya looked at him with immense shock

"Well, don't worry, the chances are not high, atleast I believe so"

“Sounds promising.” Alina spoke, ignoring Anaya"s terrified expression

“I thought so too,” he said without a hint of humor, and bent back to his work.

“David,” Allina spoke. He looked up, startled, as if he’d completely forgotten she was there. “I need to ask you something.”

Anaya noticed his gaze darting to Alina's collar but he went back to work again

“What can you tell me about Ilya Morozova?”

David twitched, glancing around the nearly empty room. Most of the Fabrikators were still at dinner. He was clearly nervous, maybe even frightened.

He looked at the table, picked up his compass, put it down.

Finally, he whispered, “They called him the Bonesmith.”

Anaya's attention moved from her equations to the conversation at David's words

 “Why? because of the amplifiers he discovered?” Alina asked

David looked up, surprised. “He didn’t find them. He made them.”

 “Merzost? How?” she asked.

“No one knows,” David said, glancing over his shoulder again. “After the Black Heretic was killed in the accident that created the Fold, his son came out of hiding to take control of the Second Army. He had all of Morozova’s journals destroyed.”

“Why was his son in hiding?”  

 “A Darkling and his heir never live at the Little Palace at the same time. The risk of assassination is too great.”

The particular reason for this never seemed quite plausible to Anaya, yet she chose to believe it like the rest of them.

“I see. Why would he have had the journals destroyed?” Alina asked

“They documented Morozova’s experiments with amplifiers. The Black Heretic was trying to re-create those experiments when something went wrong.”

“And the result was the Fold.” she realized

David nodded. “His son had all of Morozova’s journals and papers burned. He said they were too dangerous, too much of a temptation to any Grisha. That’s why I didn’t say anything at the meeting. I shouldn’t even know they ever existed.”

“So how do you?”

David looked around the almost empty workshop again.

“Morozova was a Fabrikator, maybe the first, certainly the most powerful. He did things that no one’s ever dreamed of before or since. To us, he’s kind of a hero.”He gave a sheepish shrug.

“Do you know anything else about the amplifiers he created?”

David shook his head. “There were rumors of others, but the stag was the only one I’d ever heard of.”

“David, why are you here? You fashioned the collar. You must have known what he intended.” Alina asked after a short pause

He swallowed. “I knew he would be able to control you, that the collar would allow him to use your power. But I never thought, I never believed ... all those people...” He struggled to find the words. Finally, he held out his ink- stained hands and said, almost pleadingly. “I make things. I don’t destroy them.”

David had been the one to secure Alina's collar, he surely felt immensely guilty for that.

“Good luck with the dishes,” Alina spoke as she rose to leave

David hunched over his papers. “I don’t believe in luck.”

                                   .............................................................................................................

Anaya was usually working in the Materialki workshops with David and Paja when she wasn't at any meetings, but she'd seemed to grow fond of the confined space and silence. She had begun to enjoy her work. She would sometimes chat with Paja whether about their work, or anything in general. The girl reminded her of her mother. Her brown Suli skin, her dark hair and eyes, and her purple kefta. Even though her mother was a Durast, the resemblance was striking. Just like her mother, she always seemed to remain hopeful and enthusiastic about her work.