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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year

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Still be here in the morning?

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: You drive Nikolai wild. You want him to see you, to see you, but you're scared. If you give in to your desires and you let yourself fall, will he still be there in the morning?

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, lots of teasing, a lil bit of angst, and some fluff. Also the reader's nickname is Mouse - but it's not a size thing, it's an occupation thing *thumbs up emoji*

Author's Note: This started off as a smut thing but became a whole story thing so enjoy ;D

It was safe to say you drove Nikolai wild. You hardly listened to his rules, questioning your Captain in his every decision and driving him crazy with your constant bickering. You knew that you could, you were Nikolai's star crewmate and he would never risk firing you. No one was a better diplomat, marksman, or sailor - except perhaps Nikolai himself. You were a good detective too - you were the only one of his crew to have figured out his true identity.

You had teased him about it on a brief visit to West Ravka - an old family painting had given it all away.

"You'll never guess what I found, Cap." You said, waltzing into his quarters and jumping up onto his desk. He tilted his face up to you - indicating that he was listening - but kept his eyes focused on the maps laid in front of him, studying new routes out west. You were only docked in Os Kervo to collect a round of new supplies - enough to keep you afloat to Novyi Zem or even further.

"Tell me, Mouse. What have you found that is so worth sharing that you break into my quarters?" He used the affectionate nickname you had picked up since joining the crew - you were quiet, almost undetectable when need by. Of course, Nikolai knew how annoying and boisterous you could get when you were comfortable. Still, the nickname had stuck. In fact, you were almost certain that aside from Nikolai, and the twins, no one could remember your true name. It didn't matter. You had moved on from that life.

"Well, Tolya and I spent most of our afternoon in the galleries in Os Kervo-"

"-leaving Tamar to collect the supplies? Yes, I heard about that. Just because you keep us out of trouble with the law does not mean that you get to delegate all your duties to someone else. We work together, Mouse, you'd do well to remember it."

"Yes, yes, she said she was fine with it. Something about getting Tolya's poetic arse off her back for a few hours," Nikolai chuckled at that, "And anyway, the interesting thing is what I found in the galleries. You see, despite the Fold, West Ravka is still a united nation-"

"I'm aware."

"Stop interrupting me!" You swatted him with a loose piece of paper on his desk, "It's rude. You'd have thought that you had some manners - what with your pretentious nature."

"Is there a point to this, Mouse? Because I suggest you get there soon."

"Well, what I was saying was, I came across a portrait. A new one - well, sort of. It had the King - Pyotr, that is - and his wife, and their sons. Did you know that they had 2? I had simply forgotten." A cheeky grin had snuck onto your face and Nikolai was now looking directly at you. You leaned in close to his ear, "I'd say they did the younger son a disservice, wouldn't you? Your Highness?"

Nikolai moved swiftly, clamping his hand down over your mouth. "Does Tolya know?"

You move his hand off your mouth, "Of course not. I'm not one to be going around spreading rumours that are not mine to spread."

"Good. And you're going to keep it that way. Especially if you want to stay on this ship."

"Oh, Nikolai. You're not going to fire me. You won't risk having the biggest threat to your secret not on your side. I'm a diplomat - I know how intimidation works," Nikolai fixes you with a stare, "Ok, I was a diplomat, whatever. Semantics. Point is, you're not going to fire me. Your secrecy depends on it."

After that day, your teasing had increased ten-fold and Nikolai's patience with you had decreased just as much. He hardly spoke to you if he didn't have orders to give you. And it pissed you off.

To be perfectly honest, you made his blood boil. Nikolai didn't know what it was about you, but you knowing who he was had tipped him over the edge. He thought that he was untraceable - a new persona, a new look. He'd made a point to never dock in Ravka - but needs must and there was no way they'd survive a trip to Kerch. They'd been running on fumes. To be honest, the trip had gone better than expected. But of all the people to find out, it just had to be you. He stewed alone in his chambers. They were currently in Novyi Zem, planning to head further west. Ravka had no power further west than Novyi Zem, a notion which many - including you - were grateful for.

He'd never taken the time to understand what you were running from - almost everyone in his crew was running from some demon, but you had never once let slip who you were before you joined Sturmhond's crew. He knew that you were a diplomat of some kind and that you were half-Ravkan, but beyond that, you were a mystery to him. Perhaps that's what pissed him off. That you knew exactly who he was and who he had been and he knew nothing about you.

A knock came at his door. Who the fuck could that be? To his knowledge, everyone was out partying in the taverns. Who could resist a peaceful night out when you spent every other night on a ship sailing in the middle of an ocean? Nikolai could. And so could this mystery person apparently. Nikolai opened his door before the guest knock again, groaning when he caught sight of who it was. You were standing at his door - coat and boots discarded and your shirt haphazardly untied. You pushed past him and made yourself comfortable in his chair, smiling as he ran a hand over his face.

"Awhh, don't look too happy to see me, Sturmhond. Or should I say, Nikolai?" You'd taken to teasing him in the privacy of his room, where you were sure no one could hear you.

"What do you want, Mouse?"

"I just wanted to see how my dear Majesty was holding up. It has been a rough week for us all."

"Cut the bullshit. I know you're here to piss me off. Not tonight, Mouse. Please."

"Ooh. I like it when you beg. Do it again." You grinned at him. You knew you were getting under his skin.

"I said not tonight. Get out, Mouse. Go piss off some drunkard in a tavern." Nikolai said, nearly pushing you out of the door. "Maybe he can fuck the attitude out of you," he whispered under his breath.

"Make me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Nikolai said, turning around to face you again.

"I said, make me, Lantsov."

"I told you to stop fucking using that name," Nikolai growled, pushing you up against the wall, his arm pushing under your boob. You flushed pink, heat pooling in your stomach.

Nikolai grinned, "Oh, I see." He looked you up and down, scanning your figure. You could feel your underwear soak with every second of his gaze.

"What do you see, Captain? Need me to get you a spyglass. Could help you-" You were cut off by Nikolai's lips on yours. They were soft, gentle, and yet demanding at the same time. It was nice. This was nice.

"Is that what you wanted, Mouse? Attention from your Captain?" The honourific felt dirty coming from his mouth. You felt the desire to push him further - to piss him off until he gave you what you wanted. What you needed.

"Are you sure it's not what you wanted Captain? You seem to be a lot more excited by this than I am."

Nikolai nearly growled at that, attaching his lips to yours again, before slipping your belt off. He slipped his hands down to your core, feeling the wetness and smirking.

"Not as excited as me, huh?" He rubbed a circle around your clit and watched your defenses crumble. You grabbed a fistful of his jacket in your hand as your hips bucked away from him.

Nikolai lifted you up easily, depositing you on his desk, "I wanted to fuck you that day. When you hopped up on this desk and threatened me the first time. Should've done it. Should've shown you exactly who the boss is around here."

He grabbed the small knife he kept in his breast pocket off the desk and flicked it open. You gasped. Nikolai grazed the knife against the outside of your hip, slicing cleanly through your underwear. You were glad you'd taken off your stays earlier - you weren't sure if you could survive him ruining your most comfortable stays.

He placed a gentle kiss on your throat before pulling your shirt off. He gazed at you, momentarily starstruck, before latching his mouth onto your nipple. A hand came up to toy with the other, and you dissolved into a moaning mess.

He pulled away from your nipple to grin at your state. You looked at him breathlessly, grinning, "Is that all you've got, Lantsov."

His stare turned dark. He dove down and buried himself in your pussy. He licked and nipped, flicking your clit with his tongue. He played you like a well-tuned instrument. He fucked your hole with his tongue - alternating between stroking your walls with his tongue and sucking on your clit.

Your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. You clamped your thighs around Nikolai's head, throwing your head back as you cried out.

Nikolai lifted his head up, eyes glinting dangerously, wetness smeared all around his lips. He looked devious. In that moment, he was not Nikolai Lantsov, spare to the Lantsov name, but Sturmhond, masterful privateer, Captain of Volkvolny. You loved him for it.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Mouse."

"What are you going to do about it?" You bit your lip, hiding a smirk.

He threw his coat off, carrying you towards his bed. You were lucky that no one else was on board - if they heard what was going on you'd never live it down.

Nikolai laid you on the bed, stripping his clothes off at extraordinary speed. He was quickly inside you, eliciting whimpers from you at every movement. He gave you a moment to adjust before he started to thrust. His hips snapped into you at an ungodly pace and it was all that you could do to not fall apart on his cock.

Nikolai grinned at your silence, his eyes scanning over you. Your face was blissed out, eyes rolling to the back of your head every so often. Sweat glistened on your skin, as you rocked forwards at the force of his every thrust. He couldn't help the small praises that fell from his lips as you moaned lowly.

"Look at you, so fucking beautiful under me, spread out for me like a whore. That's what you are, my beautiful little whore." You moaned at the filth dripping out of his mouth, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Have I fucked the little mouse stupid? No words left to taunt me now, huh?" You moaned softly, your mouth almost stuck in the shape of an 'O'. "Maybe I should do this more often, keep you quiet for longer." You nodded your head, head too foggy to come up with another smart-ass response.

Your second and third orgasms crashed over you in quick succession - Nikolai clamped his hand over your mouth as you screamed 'Nikolai' over and over again. He promised that next time he'd fuck that name out of your brain, before pulling out and cumming all over your chest.

You lay on his bed - dazed from the intense fucking you just received. You were surprised to find yourself alone in Nikolai's bed - he'd disappeared moments after cumming. He'd said something but you were still coming down from your last high when he moved away. You began to spiral. Of course, he was only fucking you to teach you a lesson - why else would he be interested in you? You idiot! He's the prince of fucking Ravka and the Captain of this ship. What do you have that would interest him, apart from your bratty mouth and attitude? He said it himself - the attitude pissed him off.

You were startled when something cold made contact with your chest. You looked up to find Nikolai with something in his hand - a wet washcloth, maybe? - and a sheepish grin on his face. He was still naked, his hair still tousled and his face still flushed. An involuntary beam broke out across your face. He didn't leave you after all.

Nikolai was taken by surprise at the tears that gathered on your lash line. He pulled you up into his chest when you were clean, sitting on the edge of his bed with you held tightly in his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, drawing mindless shapes on your back as tears streamed down your face, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He was confused - surely, if he hurt you, you wouldn't be seeking comfort in him.

His heart slowed slightly when you shook your head, but the confusion remained.

"Talk to me, Mouse. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not. If it matters to you, then it matters to me. Tell me, whatever it is, I'll fix it." Another wave of emotion washed over you. You climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I thought you were mad." You whispered quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't hear you and that he would let it go.

"Why would I be mad?"

"You left." You shrugged, "You left and I thought you were gone for good." He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled your head into his chest.

"Oh, Mouse. For all your genius, you are oblivious." You looked up at him, confused. "I love you, Mouse. I always have." You shook your head, "What?"

"You're just saying that." You said, tears filling your lash line again as you tried to pull away, "You're just saying that 'cause you fucked me and you don't want me to leave." You tried to move out of his arms but he held you firmly. You hit his chest, trying to force yourself off him, but he stood his ground. Eventually, you just melted into his arms - he held you as you cried, hands stroking your hair soothingly.

You calmed down slowly, chest heaving as you tried to replenish your lungs. You stayed relaxed in his arms. He laid his head on top of yours. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

You shook your head.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded your head.

"Do you trust me enough to believe me when I say I love you?"

You hesitated.

"Well, we've found our problem."

"You don't love me."

"How do you know? You been inside my head? Pretty sure even Grisha can't do that." You chuckled.

"You hate me. You can't even look at me - let alone talk to me for long enough to fall in love with me."

"I can't look at you because if I start looking I'll never look away. I can't talk to you because I look like a fool every time I try and string two words together in front of you. Ask Tolya - he'll tell you how hopelessly in love with you I am. And for someone who's not interested in romance, he's a fucking hopeless romantic." His words involuntarily brought a smile onto your face.

You looked into his eyes, "You're sure you love me?"

"Honey, you drive me wild."

You nestled into his arms, and he leaned you both back onto the bed. Your head hit his pillow and suddenly you're surrounded by him. His arms wrap around you tightly, his pillow smells like him, his face is right next to yours. It's nice. Comforting.

You looked up into his face, studying his features while he slept. He was pretty - objectively. His face was long - pointy. Someone had done a terrible job of fixing his broken nose - but it seemed off at a second glance. He seemed so different than the paintings in the gallery - more difference than age alone could bring. His eyes were the giveaway - they were muddy green at first glance but under the right light and if you stared long enough, they were the same hazel green as the ones in the painting. You reached up to stroke his face. How long would this all last? How long until he wouldn't be able to play pretend anymore? How long until he had to go back to being Prince Nikolai Lantsov of Ravka? How long did you have with him in this beautiful bubble that you had created? You could already hear the rest of the crew filtering in from their nights out.

A hand came up to wrap around yours, "Sleep, Mouse. I'll still be here in the morning."

You smiled. He'd still be here in the morning.

fin.

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov being kind #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov my beloved #nikolai lantsov x you #no y/n #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai x reader #siege and storm #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone x reader

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marvelmusing · 1 year

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In Another Life

Masterlist

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: When the making at the heart of the world steals you from your own universe and drops you into the fictional country of Ravka you’re thoroughly bewildered. But this is an opportunity for you to right every wrong - and hopefully save one life in particular.

Word Count: 60.5K - COMPLETED

My Masterlist • Series Playlist

Read on AO3 HERE

Part One

One moment you’re going about your usual day, the next you’re in Ravka - the fictional country in a fictional universe. When you realise that the story you know by heart hasn’t even begun, there’s only one person you can think of going to.

Part Two

After a restless night of sleep, you wake with too many thoughts in your mind. The contents of the General’s war table provide an ample distraction, and soon the man himself joins you.

Part Three

You and Aleksander journey to Kribirsk, where everything starts to become real for you, as your plan is finally set in motion.

Part Four

Accompanied by your new recruits, you and Aleksander return to the Little Palace, and soon settle into a comfortable routine. But nothing ever stays the same for long.

Part Five

Alina is presented to the king as the sun summoner, and from that point onwards you and Aleksander become increasing busy - and apart.

Part Six

An unexpected visitor arrives with some good news, and Aleksander makes a earth-shattering discovery.

Bonus Scene

As your first interaction with Baghra occurs, a wounded Aleksander returns from a mission, and you have no chance to ponder over her opinion of you.

Part Seven

The search for the stag takes your group north into Fjerda, but it’s after you return to Os Alta that a surprising event occurs.

Part Eight

The Winter Fete goes smoothly, a perfect evening followed by a foiled assassination. A few days later, you and Aleksander journey into the Fold.

Part Nine

After a dramatic arrival into West Ravka, your group travels to Os Kervo, and you recruit a pirate privateer to join you in the search for the sea whip.

Part Ten

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.

Part Eleven

Your near death experience has taken a toll on you, which forces Aleksander to come to a realisation.

Part Twelve

A successful return to Ravka prompts you to share warnings of the future with Aleksander, and a new (but not unfamiliar) character invites himself into your schemes.

Part Thirteen

Slowly the pieces of your plan for the Fold come into place, but thoughts and fears of the future continue to haunt you.

Part Fourteen

Ravka’s seat of power changes, and Aleksander makes a discovery that sends you both north in search of his sister.

Part Fifteen

As Alina is about to bring down the Fold, Aleksander suggests a theory that lifts your hopes.

Part Sixteen

Together, you and Aleksander journey to the monastery of Sankt Feliks. To mend the tear at the making, a sacrifice from one of you is required.

Part Seventeen

With the remains of the Fold vanquished, the people celebrate. Together, you and Aleksander work to establish peace in Ravka and a safe haven for your Grisha.

Bonus Scene

Alternate Ending

Until I Found You - IAL (Aleksander’s Version)

Aleksander isn’t expecting to find love in this lifetime, that is until you arrive. - A collection of scenes from In Another Life from Aleksander’s perspective, as well as a bonus scene.

Post-In Another Life

Future Uncertainty

Lingering insecurities rear their head now that everything has been resolved, and Aleksander encourages you to share your fears. (set mid-part seventeen)

The General’s Crown

In an attempt to escape the attention of being a living saint, you retreat into the fields and create flowers for the local children. It isn’t long before your husband finds you.

Christmas Eve

Its your second Christmas in Ravka, your first with the country at peace and Aleksander as your husband. Together, you have the perfect Christmas Eve.

The New Year

It’s New Years Eve, and the first time you’re celebrating with Aleksander as your husband.

What the Future Holds

Immortality suits you well, and your new life with Aleksander is better than you ever could have imagined.

#in another life au #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone

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kasagia · 4 months

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❄️️Warm my heart pt. 6❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: Lots of things are happening. And you're going to learn something completely new about Aleksander… Warning(s): furious Aleksander and his shadows shed blood; Word Count: 3,6 k Taglist:@aoi-targaryen @budugu @flostvs1508 ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova’s Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 5 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 7 ~•♤♤♤•~

Dressed in a nightgown, you were already going to bed when suddenly there was a knock on your chambers.

You frown, not knowing who it could be at this late in the night. Well... you couldn't say you didn't have some hopes about the identity of your late-night guest.

"Aleksander?" you ask, opening the door.

There is no one there. You frown and walk out of the safety of your chambers. You take a look around, searching for anyone in the quiet, dark corridor. You notice that the torches have been extinguished faster than usual, leaving only one in the middle of the passageway.

You listen to your surroundings and hear the two heartbeats, which probably came from the guards patrolling the corridors. It does not arouse any suspicions in you, so you shrug and decide to go back to your room and ignore this strange situation.

You suspect that these are some young Grishas playing instead of sleeping. The youngest summoners have already played various tricks and jokes on the inhabitants of the Little Palace several times.

You change your mind when suddenly a wet cloth is pressed to your nose and someone's arms wrap around you. You fight against your attacker, trying to scream, but all you manage to do is scratch him. You fall limply to the floor as the substance takes effect, and before you completely pass out, you're kicked in the stomach.

Aleksander rubbed his hand over his forehead as he read the latest reports from the fold. Another failed transport. More Grishas were killed. He shuddered, placing the paper on the desk. This wasn't supposed to be like this. The Volcra were supposed to attack the king's men, the Fjerdans... not his people.

With every day in the Little Palace, with every news of his men dying in the fold... every time you offered to move to West Ravka with the others to personally supervise the transfer, he felt the bile rising in his throat. He would correct his mistake. He will move the fold and widen it so that it serves him as it should. He just had to get that stag and the powers of the Sun Summoner.

"General." Ivan enters the war room with Fedyor and Inferni. "We have a problem."

"As always." He sighs and gets up from the desk. He goes to the bar to pour himself some whiskey. "What happened this time?"

"There was an attack on the eastern wing. Alina was the target." he freezes for a moment, pours himself a drink, and turns back to his men.

"Sun Summoner?"

"Alive and safe. But it is not everything. The rebels took hostages. They barricaded themselves in the training room. They have Fjerdans' technology, blocking our powers. And…"

"And?"

"We can't find Y/N." Fedyor takes Ivan's place by delivering the news. Aleksander's eyes are fixed blankly on the heartrender as he processes his words.

This one sentence makes him stop seeing or hearing anything. He feels his shadows slowly begin to take over the room as he allows his power to slip away for a slight moment when he creates a plan in his head.

"I want all of you on the east wing. Every single one of you who is usually coming to the mission with me, no inexperienced greenhorns."

Before they can answer him, he already leaves the room and storms to where the rebels are supposed to be.

Aleksander was not famous for his mercy, and he certainly would not show it to those who dared to enter HIS palace. They wanted to kill his Sun Summoner and deprive him of the source of power that was a key element of his plan. But what sealed their long, painful, slow death at his hands and shadows was that they dared to take HIS SECOND-IN-COMMAND from him.

HIS HEARTRENDER. HIS Y/N.

He practically ran to the east wing. He didn't notice anything around him. All Aleksander could think about was you. He has already figured out seven different plans for how to rescue you and get you back into his arms.

Involuntarily, he remembered the last time he tried to save someone from his enemies... someone who had not made it out alive.

No. He shook his head and passed the Grishas, who were beginning to gather outside the training room at his command. You weren't Luda. He promised himself that you wouldn't end up like her... even if he had to create a second fold to protect you.

He vaguely remembers nodding at Zoya. She summoned a wind that blew the door off its hinges, and he entered first with the cut already formed and his shadows filling the room. He controlled himself enough not to kill anyone in the room until he located exactly where you were.

But the problem was that you WEREN'T there.

His heart sinks as he imagines you with a deadly wound, blood pouring out of you, forming a pool beneath you somewhere on the grounds of the Little Palace, a place that he made—a place that was supposed to be free from the death of any Grishas. ESPECIALLY YOURS.

"Where is my heartrender?!"

His question receives no answer. In a fit of rage, he growls menacingly, his shadows wrapping around one of the attackers. He dies practically on the spot, only able to utter a few screams that satisfy Aleksander enough to regain full control over himself.

He takes a few intimidating steps towards the man who is trembling the most of all the rebels on the ground, held down by Ivan. The sound of his heavy boots bounces off the floor and spreads throughout the completely silent room.

"I'll ask one last time." one step further. "Where." next step. "Is." he stands directly above him and puts his foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground. A little harder, and he knows he'll break a few ribs. "MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND?"

"She… she escaped… with some of yours..." he hums at this answer, pride rising within him to hear that his little heartrender managed to get out. And judging by the few dead bodies, she did it in style.

He presses his boot with greater force against the man on the floor. Spurs begin to dig into his chest.

"Wait! WAIT! I can tell you more! Do not kill me!" the man struggles beneath him, trying to relieve the pressure of the spur on his chest.

"You broke into my palace and wanted to kill the Sun Summoner and my second-in-command. Do you really think I will fulfil your pathetic cries for life?" one lifts his hand, and a small turn of the fingers and shadows surround the terrified man at his command. "Besides, I've heard enough from you. Not your screams, though..."

And with that, desperate screams began to echo throughout the room as he and his men interrogated the attackers.

You were sitting in the healers' infirmary. You were eating a cupcake when Fedyor was screaming at you.

"You are completely irresponsible! They could have killed you!"

"But they didn't." you say, munching on a muffin. The healer managed to heal most of your wounds before Fedyor arrived, but the heartrender managed to see the effects of your escape.

"We were worried. You're lucky the general didn't see what they did to you. They're lucky. Although I doubt he'll show them any mercy, they're probably dying anyway for daring to attack the Little Palace and trying to kill you as well as others of ours."

"Please, we both know where the general is now and where his priorities are." you huff, reaching for another cupcake that some nice healer brought you. You don't recall his name, though.

"Where, supposedly?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"With Alina." you say, shrugging. Disbelief crosses your friend's face before he groans loudly in torment. You frown at him in confusion. "What? Am I wrong? After all, she was the target. He's probably wiping her tears away with his handkerchief or something."

"I have no strength against you. How many times do I have to tell you that he doesn't want Alina? And not. Don't start with your stupid nonsense about equals, more equals, fate, or opposites attracting. It doesn't work like that here between them. The sooner you get off your ass and do something, the shorter I will have to endure your outbursts of jealousy, and Ivan will have to endure the general's outbursts."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Please, who do you think tracked down who you were corresponding with and intercepted Mal's letter for him? Ivan didn't even have time to finish his report. He ran out of the war room as if he had been scalded, almost crumpling Ortsev's letter in his hand. I remember because I was walking Genio to the Grand Palace, and we almost stepped under his feet. It's good that he controls himself and doesn't summon his shadows in a fit of emotion, because every week, even every day, we would have to organise funerals for our people because our general created a second fold because of you."

You blush slightly and clear your throat before taking another muffin.

"And yet he's not here."

"Because I believe that right now he is disembowelling those who knocked you out as an act of his undying love for you." you roll your eyes at him. You both shut up as the healer returns with some vials for you.

"Here. Just in case the dizziness persists." you smile sweetly at him and thank him while taking the vials from him. The healer blushes slightly. Fedyor rolls his eyes at you and clears his throat.

“Let's go, Y/N. Before there are any more wounded… or dead.”

"I'll join you soon." you say, nodding at him to leave.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." he sighs in defeat and leaves the infirmary.

You turn around, giving your full attention to the healer. He was sweet. And after everything that happened, he was a nice break from your daily dramas. Plus, he had something you really liked.

"Is that a moonstone?" you ask with a kind smile, pointing to the bracelet he was wearing.

"Oh yes." he says sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "A durasts friend did this to me. Some people believe that it can help attract love into one's life."

"Aww. That's really beautiful." you see how he becomes ashamed under your gaze.

"Umm…thank you. If I can help you in any way, you know where to find me." you nod and thank him once again before he disappears into the glove compartment, probably to restock medical supplies.

You sigh and jump to the ground from your seat in the medical chair. You take another cupcake. You are unwrapping the paper around it when suddenly the door to the infirmary opens with a loud bang.

You turn around, coming face-to-face with Aleksander. The tension on his face strangely disappears the moment his eyes meet yours. You see (and hear through his heartbeat) how he relaxes at the sight of you.

"Y/N." he sighs and walks over to you as his steps in his heavy shoes echo in the silence of the still-empty sall.

Before you can do anything, his hands tangle in your hair, bringing you close to him as his lips catch yours in a sudden kiss.

You gasp in shock, still holding a cupcake in your hand. You moan as you realise what he is doing and start to respond to his kiss.

At first, he gently brushes his lips against yours, testing the waters to see how far he can go with you. When he realises that you are willingly moving your lips and tongue against his, he makes it deeper.

You are pulled closer to him. His other hand is grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, making sure to feel every little inch of your body.

You tremble at the feeling of his hands all over you. And you want more. Much more than this.

When your tongue meets his, you feel like you are in heaven. He moans as he tastes the chocolate in the muffins you've been eating and kisses you with even more zeal.

You're lost to everything else; it is only you and him. His body against yours; his lips, stealing your breath and hands, holding you still on the ground.

His hand cups your cheek gently, his thumb caressing your skin tenderly with all the delicacy he has, which you are probably the only one witnessing. You feel his wandering hand finally land on your neck, right where your pulse is, which is now beating much faster because of him.

He presses his hand there, wanting, at all costs, to feel your heart palpitations. And as you try to process any thought in your brain that doesn't involve his lips on yours, you realise that right now you would do anything for him... in fact, you always have, and you would do anything for him. And it scares you just as much as it fills you with that strange, warm feeling. You know how it's called, but you were still too afraid to admit it to yourself.

So you decide to enjoy the moment. Your hands land in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Only his soft, breathtaking moan makes you realise where you are and that no one should definitely find you making out with the General... at least not until you're sure what you're feeling towards him.

Despite his tight grip on you, you manage to pull away just enough so that his lips don't capture yours again and take your mind off you with his silver tongue.

"Aleksander..." you whisper, your voice shaky and hoarse. And if you look the same as him, then you have red, slightly swollen lips, dishevelled hair, and wrinkled kefta.

"I thought… I thought they got you for a while…" he admits, resting his forehead against yours. You see all the dark thoughts come back to him again as he frowns and closes his eyes. You cup his cheek and stroke it with concern, trying to snap him out of all the bad scenarios he's prepared in his head. "When Fedyor said you were here… I thought the worst."

"I'm tougher than you think. And you really should listen to the end of what they have to say." you try to joke, but the look he gives you shows that he's not finding it funny in this situation at all.

"I don't want to find out. Ever." he says, pressing you to his chest in a tight embrace. "I need you to be safe… All of us need it…"

"Don't." you say, tilting your head to look at him. His dark eyes stare into yours as if hypnotized. "Just don't do this shitty talk. I... not after this."

"Maybe you've right... I think it's too late for us, isn't it?" he asks. You both know the answer, but you're not ready to say it out loud yet. This is enough for you for now. Being in the safety of each other's arms. "Let's get out of here. I believe you want to get back to your chambers."

"Not exactly." you say, shuddering at the memory of what happened to you a few hours ago.

"I should've made them pay worse for what they did…" he begins threateningly, thinking about these men, but he softens at the sight of your anxious state—a very rare sight that already makes his heart ache. "C'mon, milaya. I will take care of you." he takes your hand in his so gently and tenderly that you're sure you'd follow him to hell if he wanted.

But all he wants is to hold you as close to him as possible.

And you let him. Without any hesitations.

You were lying on his bed. Your kefta was folded and laid on the chair. He took his own off a long time ago since it was all covered in blood.

You were just cuddling. His face was nuzzled into your neck as you ran your fingers through his hair. You both needed this moment of closeness between you. To feel at least a little peace in the other's arms, tender touch, and lazy kisses placed on various parts of the body. The fact that he was shirtless only helped.

"Fjerdans found out that Sun Summoner was getting stronger. They sent some of their people here to kill her. They managed to get into Little Palace, just like it was a damn park. Also… Alina told me you were the one who rescued her."

"I did." you confirm, too busy with drawing patterns on his bare back (he insisted on taking off his shirt, even though you could see there wasn't any blood on the black material) to show much interest in talking about Alina.

"Why?"

"What why? Aren't you happy?"

"I am. But… Ivan told me that… she isn't your favourite person."

"You should stop asking other people about me. You are not at war with me; you do not need to find out about my weaknesses, preferences, tell others to keep an eye on me, and other things before confrontation. You just need to ask me. Besides, I like Alina. She is an amazing friend and sweet soul."

"But?"

"But… she just makes me… question my position at your side." you admit, ashamed. He grabs your chin softly and makes you look into his eyes as he grabs your hands in his.

"If I know something, I know that you belong here." he says, placing a kiss on your joined hands. "So never doubt in anything… there is… there is no one else like you. And I don't mean your powers. I mean you. My Y/N. The one who didn't turn her back at me. The one who can see through my façade and see the real me and who trusts my judgement without any questions… well, usually." he makes you laugh, at which he is smiling, admiring the sound he loved more than any music he has heard in the long centuries he has lived.

"You are my general." you say, shrugging your arms. As if it were enough of an answer to his words.

"Only?" he asks, with an almost teasing smile on his face.

"No... not anymore." you admit, making him blush a little.

He cleans his throat and wraps his arms tighter around you. He places a kiss on your temple and sighs.

"I have been waiting a long time for... for something like this." he whispers in your hair.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him sweetly and lovingly. He deepens the kiss, cupping your cheek into his hand and pulling you closer to him so you're underneath him. His hand wanders under your blouse when suddenly there's a knock on his door.

You both moan softly in unison and in disbelief. You reluctantly pull your lips away from him and he rests his forehead against yours.

He licks his lips, shifting his gaze from your eyes to the door. You laugh at how undecided he is looking right now. You can't help but kiss him softly.

"Go. I will wait here for you." you assure him with a true smile of utter happiness.

You see a disgruntled frown form on his forehead as he knits his eyebrows. He sighs heavily and reluctantly gets out of bed and goes to the closet. You roll onto your stomach and swing your legs as you watch him choose clothes from his closet.

"You'd better do it." he says, putting on his shirt. He smirks at you teasingly when he sees you staring at his chest.

He leans towards you and tangles his hand in your hair, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as he bruises yours in a searing kiss, as if he's trying to make sure you won't forget the feeling and taste of his lips on yours.

"You really should go." you whisper, pulling away from him and laying back on the pillows.

"Are you that willing to kick me out of my own bed?" he asks, stroking his hand over your ankle and moving his hand higher to your knee. You curse the pants you're wearing now.

"Contrary. That's why you have to go now." he doesn't take your words to heart. He leans over you and tucks your hair behind your ear.

"Don't move from here." he whispers before pressing his lips hungrily onto yours one last time. You moan as his hand gently cups your neck, positioning you at a better angle for him to freely play with your tongue.

The bastard takes your breath away again and leaves you blushing on his bed. Before he leaves, he gives you one last long look and gives you such a wonderful smile that you can't help but watch him until he disappears out the door.

You sigh, laying back on the pillows and placing your hand over your mouth as you allow yourself to giggle with happiness like a stupid, lovestruck teenager. You completely forgot everything that happened today. All that mattered was him and how he felt pressed against you.

You hear a knock on his door. Without much thought, you get out of bed and walk over to them, fully convinced it's Aleksander.

"Did you forget something?" you ask, opening the door only to see the only person you didn't expect to see ever in your life again. "Baghra?"

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downbadf0rficppl · 3 months

Text

still be here in the morning?

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: You drive Nikolai wild. You want him to see you, to see you, but you're scared. If you give in to your desires and you let yourself fall, will he still be there in the morning?

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, lots of teasing, a lil bit of angst, and some fluff. Also the reader's nickname is Mouse - but it's not a size thing, it's an occupation thing *thumbs up emoji*

Repost

You had teased him about it on a brief visit to West Ravka - an old family painting had given it all away.

"Well, Tolya and I spent most of our afternoon in the galleries in Os Kervo-"

"I'm aware."

"Stop interrupting me!" You swatted him with a loose piece of paper on his desk, "It's rude. You'd have thought that you had some manners - what with your pretentious nature."

"Is there a point to this, Mouse? Because I suggest you get there soon."

Nikolai moved swiftly, clamping his hand down over your mouth. "Does Tolya know?"

You move his hand off your mouth, "Of course not. I'm not one to be going around spreading rumours that are not mine to spread."

"Good. And you're going to keep it that way. Especially if you want to stay on this ship."

After that day, your teasing had increased ten-fold and Nikolai's patience with you had decreased just as much. He hardly spoke to you if he didn't have orders to give you. And it pissed you off.

"Awhh, don't look too happy to see me, Sturmhond. Or should I say, Nikolai?" You'd taken to teasing him in the privacy of his room, where you were sure no one could hear you.

"What do you want, Mouse?"

"I just wanted to see how my dear Majesty was holding up. It has been a rough week for us all."

"Cut the bullshit. I know you're here to piss me off. Not tonight, Mouse. Please."

"Ooh. I like it when you beg. Do it again." You grinned at him. You knew you were getting under his skin.

"Make me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Nikolai said, turning around to face you again.

"I said, make me, Lantsov."

"I told you to stop fucking using that name," Nikolai growled, pushing you up against the wall, his arm pushing under your boob. You flushed pink, heat pooling in your stomach.

Nikolai grinned, "Oh, I see." He looked you up and down, scanning your figure. You could feel your underwear soak with every second of his gaze.

"Are you sure it's not what you wanted Captain? You seem to be a lot more excited by this than I am."

Nikolai nearly growled at that, attaching his lips to yours again, before slipping your belt off. He slipped his hands down to your core, feeling the wetness and smirking.

"Not as excited as me, huh?" He rubbed a circle around your clit and watched your defenses crumble. You grabbed a fistful of his jacket in your hand as your hips bucked away from him.

He pulled away from your nipple to grin at your state. You looked at him breathlessly, grinning, "Is that all you've got, Lantsov."

Your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. You clamped your thighs around Nikolai's head, throwing your head back as you cried out.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Mouse."

"What are you going to do about it?" You bit your lip, hiding a smirk.

He threw his coat off, carrying you towards his bed. You were lucky that no one else was on board - if they heard what was going on you'd never live it down.

Nikolai was taken by surprise at the tears that gathered on your lash line. He pulled you up into his chest when you were clean, sitting on the edge of his bed with you held tightly in his arms.

His heart slowed slightly when you shook your head, but the confusion remained.

"Talk to me, Mouse. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"It's stupid."

"I thought you were mad." You whispered quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't hear you and that he would let it go.

"Why would I be mad?"

"You left." You shrugged, "You left and I thought you were gone for good." He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled your head into his chest.

"Oh, Mouse. For all your genius, you are oblivious." You looked up at him, confused. "I love you, Mouse. I always have." You shook your head, "What?"

You calmed down slowly, chest heaving as you tried to replenish your lungs. You stayed relaxed in his arms. He laid his head on top of yours. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

You shook your head.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded your head.

"Do you trust me enough to believe me when I say I love you?"

You hesitated.

"Well, we've found our problem."

"You don't love me."

"How do you know? You been inside my head? Pretty sure even Grisha can't do that." You chuckled.

"You hate me. You can't even look at me - let alone talk to me for long enough to fall in love with me."

You looked into his eyes, "You're sure you love me?"

"Honey, you drive me wild."

A hand came up to wrap around yours, "Sleep, Mouse. I'll still be here in the morning."

You smiled. He'd still be here in the morning.

fin.

buy me a coffee

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thebigsl33p · 3 months

Text

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

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

Main Masterlist

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

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

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

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

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

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leonid.” He repeats.

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

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

He says it anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again, they both laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grisha?” The man interrogates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary.

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

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

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

The confession comes late at night.

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

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

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

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

His feet take him to her room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.”

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

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

#Last Words of A Shooting Star AU #Stardust AU #the darkling X reader #Shadow And bone X reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #stardust au #thebigsl33p

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heliads · 1 year

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soulmate! kaz brekker x reader please! names on the wrist (kaz r not kaz b). reader is a childhood friend and is a grisha under contract of servitude (tailor). they meet secretly and one night kaz says he is going on a mission to fjerda and when he returns he will buy his contract. at the end of CK he actually does this and takes her to the slat and they have a hand holding/light kiss on the forehead moment where they finally say they accept each other as soulmateI love your work, darling! ♡

ty! and excellent request, man does soulmates!kaz always hit a little different

masterlist

Soulmates were not meant for a place like this. Honestly, sometimes it seems more like some sort of cosmic accident, that of all the places to experience a meant to be, a soul universally joined to you and you alone, Ketterdam should not be it. Fjerda, now, that makes sense for soulmates. They already cling to enough traditions that magical superstition just makes sense. Even Ravka, Ravka the war-torn legend, that works.

But your home? Yours is a city of broken boys and lonely girls, blood running in the streets and skin worn too thin from all the times people pretended it was too thick. Kerch is not a country that prides itself on anything but profit. The Barrel, then– scum of the earth, forgotten by the Saints, blind to anything but greed– this is not a place that love lasts. Yet everyone here has a soulmate, the same as everyone else on every corner of the world. Make that make sense to anyone with a working brain.

Sometimes you almost think that the soulmates trend should have skipped over your city. Maybe that would be some sort of divine penance for all the wrongdoing your fellow citizens commit with glee. It would take a sign that big to convince anyone to lay down their guns and knives and try to even think about peace.

It doesn’t come, though, that divine intervention. Instead, you all have soulmates, and you all wager their lives like another round at Makker’s Wheel. You will go through your life trying to find the one person who makes you whole, and regardless of whether you find them or not, it will never be enough. The Barrel always wants more, and if it’s your city, then you do, too.

You don’t have far to look, though. Truth be told, you already found your soulmate quite a long time ago. That’s what you think, at least. In reality, your sainted aspirations are just that– dreams, hopes, an estimation that you made when you were young and have never dared to actually challenge or prove correct.

In your defense, it is almost impossible for you to tell for certain. Soulmates are identified one way and one way only: a name written across your wrist in the print of your soulmate. You’ve stared at your own wrist enough to commit the inked black to memory: Kaz Rietveld, scrawled in hurried print that still took the time to be solid and secure. There is no room for additional flourishes nor swooping script, just the name and nothing else.

That’s just like Kaz, too. Ruthless, determined Kaz. He runs through this life just like his name wraps around your veins. He’ll do what he pleases and take what he wants. If what he wants is for you to live the rest of your life in mystery, then, well, that’s just fine by him.

Maybe Kaz doesn’t know at all. The problem with the Kaz on your wrist versus the Kaz you know in real life is the issue of his last name. Kaz Brekker is the boy who runs the Barrel. Kaz Rietveld is the one who is damned to you forever. There is no guarantee that they are the same, but oh, how you wish they were.

You’ve known Kaz for half as long as you’ve known yourself. You met Kaz about a year or so after the flareup of the Queen’s Lady Plague. By then, he’d already started the process of breaking down his fragile pieces and rebuilding them back up to become Dirtyhands, the killer of this city.

You were newly arrived in Ketterdam, having the misfortune to walk into one of the gilded traps of the many pleasure houses of the West Stave. You weren’t indentured for your body, thank Ghezen, only for your hands. You’re a Tailor, one of the rare Grisha with a knack for changing the appearances of others rather than conjuring up swarms of fire or water.

You have a room in the House of the Blue Iris, and customers are sent up to you on the regular. They want darker hair, then lighter; bigger eyes, then smaller; shrinking skeletons and blooming skin. All this you can do with some effort, but it’s gotten easier over the years, your gift. It had to improve, of course. If it didn’t, your employers would start wanting you for other purposes, and that you would avoid more than anything.

As if you have a choice, though, when it really comes down to it. Your contract of servitude seems to stretch on until forever, and increases by the day. The Blue Iris uses every single excuse to lengthen your contract that they can. No matter how much money you earn, how many clients walk away happy, you’ll never be done. Not really.

Kaz met you when you were first roped into the Iris. He was scrounging around for someone to con, and first tried his tricks on you. It didn’t work, but instead of getting violent, he was just curious. Nobody saw through him like that, he said. That means he should try harder, you claimed.

It was as good as an insult to any self-respecting thief in the Barrel, which was why the two of you became immediate allies. Even after Kaz grew into Dirtyhands, broken-crowned king incarnate of this godless city and you stayed just you, still in that room in the Iris, he never let you go. Not really.

Some part of you wonders if it’s because he knew all along. See, you can never confirm whether or not he’s your soulmate because Kaz will never let anyone know at all. His gloves cover his wrists with a good few inches of black leather to spare, so there’s no chance of catching a glimpse of your name written there on his skin. He’s certainly never told you that you would ever be his soulmate.

Then again, it would be just like Kaz to keep it from you. He doesn’t like weaknesses, the Brekker boy, even when everyone claims to the stars and back that soulmates only help you find fulfillment in your life, not drag you away from it. Kaz likes being alone. His friends are exceptions, not proof, that he would ever conform to such a traitorous belief that he would need people in his life.

Likewise, he’ll never know for certain that you’re his soulmate unless you gave up the charade and asked him outright. Anyone with a decent bottle of concealer and smudgeproof black pen can pretend to be someone’s soulmate, and workers of the West Stave’s pleasure houses are often unfairly targeted in the hopes of gaining some free sessions. You’ve been tailoring your soulmate’s name off of your wrist for years now, longer than you’ve ever known Kaz.

Thus, the two of you are at an impossible stalemate. Neither of you will risk asking, because the cost of being wrong is far too high. Kaz would never surrender his guard long enough to include a soulmate in his life as more than a friend. You certainly have no space in your contract to include someone made for you. Neither of you can see the name of the other’s soulmate, so you’ll go on dancing around the issue for the rest of your lives.

It bothers you sometimes to think that Kaz would rather die than tell you. If he was your soulmate, then he’d have your full name there, first and last correct. Maybe the rumors are true and he never takes off his gloves even to speak, maybe his arms are so burned that the skin has melted away and he never saw the name in his life. Regardless of his innocence, true or not, he keeps his silence. You respect him enough to do the same.

Yet when Kaz shows up at your room in the middle of the night, you can’t shake the feeling that he knows something. He’s certainly nervous enough to indicate such a truth; he shifts from leg to leg, constantly moving as if he’s ready to run at any moment. Your clients are done for the present moment, and you were in the middle of trying to regain at least some energy for the next one. You love being a Grisha and using your gifts, but Saints, if it doesn’t kill you to be so drained day in and day out. Everyone wants more than you have, but if you let them down, the consequences are unthinkable.

Kaz knocks on your window; you know it’s him before you turn. Kaz has a way of making himself known, from anything to the distinctive sound of his cane accompanying his footsteps to the very pattern of his breathing from across the room. You’d know him anywhere, in death, in life, in hapless, never-ending purgatory.

You rise to unlock your window, but he lingers there still on the other side of the sash. Cocking one brow, you ask him why he hasn’t yet come in. “Last time I checked, you’ve never had a problem with invading my personal space. What’s changed?”

Kaz exhales sharply, but stays there on the fire escape, as if scared to give himself too much room. “I’m leaving. Tomorrow, early. No one can know.”

You frown. “Then why are you telling me? Anyone could be listening.”

Kaz seems to have reached that same conclusion several times before, but he stays regardless. “It’s a job. A good one. Thirty million kruge.”

You blow out a low breath. “Ghezen’s hand, that’s a lot of money. Still doesn’t explain why you’re breaking your typical pre-job oath of secrecy and telling me, though.”

Kaz makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat. “You’re infuriating.”

“Of course I am,” you smile, “that’s why you spend time with me, isn’t it?”

There’s a pause, and then Kaz continues. “I’ll buy your contract when we’re done.”

This you weren’t expecting. “What?” You gasp, almost thinking that you heard him wrong.

Kaz isn’t one to joke around on serious matters, though, and he repeats himself again. “I’ll buy your contract from the Blue Iris. Once we finish the job and we get our money. You can be one of my Dregs.” His expression softens, eyes growing wide with the slightest tint of disbelief. “That is, if you’d want to.”

You laugh quietly. “Kaz, it would be an honor to join your gang.”

Something almost like a smile touches his lips. “There’s no honor among thieves, Y/N.”

“With you, there would be,” you answer.

Kaz shakes his head. “I’m certainly not honorable. I would have thought all this time would have taught you that.”

You ponder that for a moment. “If you’re not honorable, why would you go to the trouble of buying me out?”

Kaz looks away, and has to all but drag his eyes back to you again. Even still, it seems to take everything in him to hold your gaze. “I am selfish, actually. Very. I’m doing this because– because–”

His voice breaks off, and it takes at least a minute for him to recover. When he speaks at last, the syllables are choked out with great force. “Is it true? The name on your wrist, is it mine?”

Your eyes widen. “Yes,” you say at last, although you hadn’t been expecting this. Part of you thought the two of you would avoid the soulmates topic forever. Maybe it would be better that way.

Kaz’s brow furrows. “Are you sure? The last name, it says Brekker?”

It’s a trick. You’d know it even if it weren’t for the fact that Brekker isn’t the name on your wrist, that Kaz has always needed to protect himself first and trust anyone second. His brow furrows the way it does when he tries to pull a con over someone. You’ve been with him long enough to learn his ticks, and you know them now by heart.

So, you shake your head and lay your heart bare. “No,” you whisper, “it says Kaz Rietveld.”

Hearing that name seems to shake Kaz to the core. “How did you know it was me?”

You chuckle. “There are only so many boys named Kaz in this city. I mean, there are thousands of Jacks and Toms and Asbjørns, but I’ve only met one Kaz. You.”

Kaz nods slowly, accepting this. “I’ve never told anyone Rietveld was my last name,” he murmurs, half to himself, “not even you.”

His eyes seem to fix on your wrist, so you will the Tailoring away, revealing his name inked on your wrist in his same spider-block font. Kaz nods once, accepting this, then pulls off one glove on his hand. He holds it close to his chest for a moment, daring himself to do this, then gives in and shows it to you. There, written so perfectly below his hand that you almost believe you had written it yourself that very moment: Y/N L/N.

Kaz nods mechanically. “We can’t tell anyone, of course. My enemies would go mad if they knew. Still, maybe after this–”

His voice trails off, but you know what he meant. “Maybe we can explore what that means for us,” you reply softly.

Kaz’s head jerks up and down once in a marionette’s version of a nod. “We’ll see.”

A sound in the hall outside makes him startle, and he’s tugging the glove back on in a second. “Wait for me,” he says, then disappears down the fire escape again.

Your wrist is tailored over in a second, but that doesn’t stop your head from churning, your heart from pounding. After all this time, it’s true. Kaz is your soulmate, and you are his. What a world.

After that, waiting feels like agony. You hear about the disaster with the Ferolind in Ketterdam’s docks, but from the scant news you can pick up, Kaz and his crew managed to make it to the water without getting caught by rivals. All you can do is hope that they’ll manage to complete whatever impossible task waits for them during this job. Thirty million kruge is no small fee, to be sure. If it was so serious that Kaz would come to you first, even risk telling you about the job to know if you were his soulmate, the odds of dying must be high.

You know that rebellions to shake the world rarely come about quickly, but Saints, if you didn’t wish Fate would hurry itself up. You want to see Kaz again, you want to be sure that you weren’t imagining all of that moonlit conversation.

And, in time, he comes back. It takes longer than you expected. There was a terrible period of a week or two in which you knew he was back in town but he still wasn’t at your door. There were rumors that he had to take down a certain Jan van Eck as well as Pekka Rollins. Still, you refuse to give up hope, and your aspirations are rewarded.

Your employer knocks on your door, an angry sound. When you open the door, they hold up a contract, newly signed over to one Kaz Brekker. You’re told to gather your things in a far shorter period of time than anyone could ever manage, but you do so with great joy. For once, you’re living on your own terms, and it is fantastic.

Kaz is waiting for you in the streets outside. He seems changed somehow; a little older, a little more tired. Along with the stories of what he did to take down van Eck, you also heard that he lost a few friends along the way. You offer him a quiet smile, and he does his best to return it. Maybe in time, it will come easier. You can always hope. There is no cost to that.

Kaz saved a room in the Slat, the closest to his office other than his own. You place your bags in the corner and stand there, breathing in the smoky air. The Slat is creaking, half doused in rebel blood, utterly shameless and impractical. You love it to death already.

Kaz closes the door, then slowly walks over to you. An oil lamp burns overhead, giving his dark hair the appearance of a gentle golden halo. That might be the best joke you’ve seen yet. Kaz is no angel, to be sure, nothing near a Saint, but you think you quite like that about him.

He leans over slowly, carefully, and places a kiss on your forehead. It is so light you hardly feel it, but it seems to move both of you like a raging storm.

“Welcome home,” he says at last. For once, Dirtyhands is speaking the truth, and a kind truth at that. You think it might suit him.

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