#aleksander morozova fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atlabeth · 1 year

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(i promise) i've felt worse - aleksander morozova

part 1

summary: you begin to adjust to your life in ravka, desperate to leave your past behind. the darkling will not let you forget so easily.

a/n: i have darkling brainrot rn it's unhealthy. cannot stop thinking abt these two so this may become a series idk. lmk what you think.

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): ravkan and fjerdan religion (there may be inaccuracies though), darkling manipulation, not fluff or angst but a secret third thing

title is from starry eyes by the weeknd

The Darkling departed soon after your agreement, leaving you shaken and flustered and confused over anything.

My Tidemaker, he called you, as if you were something special. As if you belonged to him merely because he found you.

Yes, you owed him your life and your freedom—if he asked favors of you in exchange for such a feat, you would accept. You wanted nothing more than to be free of your debt, of General Kirigan, so you could work as you were and live as normally as you could.

You were a soldier now—that was your new normal.

Officially a Grisha, a member of the Second Army, a Tidemaker no longer bound to the shadows. Here in Os Alta, in the Little Palace, you’d been freed. You were Fjerdan only by birth, newly Ravkan in your vows.

You felt nothing.

Apart from woefully inadequate, of course, but that was a given. A Fjerdan girl does not become a Grisha darling overnight, but you did not know if you would ever truly grow into your title.

Soldier. Grisha. Tidemaker. The words felt wrong from your lips, even more so from the mouths of others.

Tidemaker, your instructor called you. Grisha, the servants would address. Out of all of them, soldier was the only that felt correct—if you were capable of one thing, it was fighting.

In Fjerda, common folk did not speak of Grisha unless to curse their name. You’d never uttered the word Tidemaker until you got your hands on ancient Ravkan texts and spoke it into existence, when you realized you were the very thing you’d been taught to hate. Anywhere other than beneath sheets in the darkest nights and alone by the lakes practicing under the guise of shadows, it did not exist.

And now you were in Os Alta, a supposed sanctuary for Grisha, and you were meant to live in the way that your blood called for. You’d signed your life away to Ravka, to the Second Army and the King and the Darkling himself in order to become a part of it, and yet you didn’t feel anything other than a keen numbness.

Numb because the life you’d signed away was akin to nothing. Numb because you had no one out there that would miss you, that would write every so often asking how you were faring. Numb because you had no choice and he knew it.

But you were alive, and you would continue to live, Tidemaker and Grisha and soldier aside.

That was all that mattered.

This made it real, you thought uncomfortably.

The room, the clothes— it was real enough, you supposed, but too easy to see it as temporary. A room you were merely borrowing, clothes that had been passed on from your brother who’d outgrown them.

But the kefta, pale waves spiraling over blue fabric, made perfectly to your measurements by Fabrikators you’d never even met—that was real. It could belong to none other than you.

The Darkling placed the order soon after your vow, and it arrived far quicker than you expected.

You couldn’t deny it anymore. You were Grisha, and you were going to live like it.

And so you put on your kefta and buckled your belt and laced up your boots, then you walked out to the beginning of the rest of your life.

You survived your first day, and then you survived your first week, and now you were well into surviving your first month. You were thrown into the deep end immediately, but you managed. You were nothing if not a fighter, after all.

There were fewer Tidemakers at the Little Palace than you expected, but all of them welcomed you with easy smiles and kind words. One near your age, a girl named Anya, warmed up to you immediately, and you were surprised at how eagerly you took to her friendship.

You’d been alone for so much of your life, banished by those who were meant to care for you and demonized by your own people, and now you were surrounded by others just like you, ones who held no malice towards you. Who accepted you.

You hadn’t anticipated how much you would crave the presence of the other Tidemakers once you’d met them, but it certainly helped with your adjustment.

Anya was native Ravkan, hailing from Kribirsk. She’d been at the Little Palace for ten years, discovered when she was nine. She served with pride and honor, she’d told you, and that she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

(“I’ve witnessed the effects of the Shadow Fold first hand,” she’d murmured. “If I can help piece Ravka back together in any kind of way, I’ll do it without question.”)

Your fellow Tidemakers also included Esen and Batu, brother and sister refugees from Shu Han who had fled into Ravka together—they made their way to Os Alta three years ago, successfully petitioned the Darkling for a place in his army, and they’d been there ever since.

Ivan, a tall man from Polvost, was half-Fjerdan on his father’s side. It was good to have someone in your corner, one who’d gone through some of the same conflicts as you. It was also quite entertaining to see his head perk up everytime someone called for the other Ivan, a Heartrender and one of the Darkling’s favored Grisha.

…Right.

The Darkling.

The man who had saved your life, the man who had brought you into the fold—he was seen as a savior by many of the Grisha you’d conversed with, and you supposed they had a point. He was immensely powerful, built the Little Palace as a place of salvation, and continuously fought for the good of both Ravka and its Grisha.

You just… you did not know what to make of him.

You were adjusting relatively well to your new life, that was true, but you knew your feelings towards him would not be so benign if you had come from anything else. If you had a family back in Fjerda, friends in your village, a lover who you would never see again, this would be a much worse fate.

But maybe that was why so many served without complaint. Countless Grisha here had little to their name, persecuted in other countries or living in Ravka with nothing. Honorable service for your country while living in one of the few sanctuaries with everything provided was a much better deal than a penniless life on your own.

The Darkling seemed to have some… some strange interest in you, for you saw him in the margins far too often.

You remember your first day of training, when you were fighting against a Squaller—you looked up when your partner was down, catching your breath for just a moment, and he was there on the walkway above the grounds, watching you.

It caught you so off guard that your partner took you by storm, and a punch to your face and a sweep of your legs had you groaning on the ground. By the time you’d collected yourself, when your partner offered a hand and pulled you up, he was gone.

When Batu asked what was wrong later that day, you didn’t know how to respond to her.

You frequently saw him during your walks to lessons and mealtimes, and though you never looked at or said anything to him and always kept a steady pace, you always felt his eyes on you. He stopped you once, and it was so unexpected to hear your name on his lips that you muttered a hasty excuse on being late for training. To your surprise, he let you go.

Having the Darkling’s eyes on you added more to your anxieties. It was already too much going from Fjerdan outcast to Grisha practically overnight—you did not need him watching you so frequently.

You were adapting, but it was all overwhelming—too much of everything for a girl who came from nothing.

Perhaps that was why you found yourself in the church.

You didn’t know the Little Palace had one, but you supposed it made sense. From what you’d read, some of Ravka’s revered Saints were Grisha in life. Legend spoke of the mythical Sun Summoner, who could destroy the wretched Shadow Fold, save Ravka, and bring Grisha salvation.

If that was not a Saint, you did not know what was.

You’d always harbored some respect for Ravka and its Saints, even when you were young. You followed Djel like your family did when you were young, but somehow, you got your hands on Ravkan books and learned what you could of Saints.

It felt… oddly like sanctuary, especially when you first discovered your abilities. Even more so when you went out on your own, the belief that life could be better for someone like you keeping you going.

You think it was what led you to them in the first place, a shimmer of light clearing the darkness of Fjerdan suppression to grant you the first shred of power that had been in your veins all along.

“I did not expect to find you here.”

You were jarred out of your thoughts, and though your heart spiked in your chest you didn’t move, your gaze remaining on the tapestry of Sënje Ulla. Sankta Ursula, rather—if you were meant to be Ravkan, you would have to worship like one.

“I didn’t know you were looking,” you responded quietly.

“I am the reason you are here,” the Darkling said. You heard him drawing closer, padded footsteps across the carpeted floor. “I feel a responsibility to look after you.”

You huffed, finally turning to face him. His perfection was effortless, with his black kefta and styled hair and dignified poise, his hands folded behind his back. Worlds apart from you, and yet for some reason he allowed you in his presence. He sought you out. “Allow me to relieve you of that weight, General. I’m perfectly alright on my own.”

“It is not a weight, nor an obligation. I do it of my own volition.” His eyes remained on you, but it was as if he looked past you, through you—the Darkling was an apt designation, for everything about the man was unnerving. “How have you been adjusting? I haven’t had the chance to ask.”

You shrugged, crossing your arms around your midsection. “Well enough.”

Again, the smallest of smiles. “I’m glad. Are your accommodations to your liking?”

“The room is bigger than the house I grew up in, and I’ve spent the past few months sleeping in blizzards,” you said. “They are more than enough, General.”

“It is what you deserve,” Kirigan said. You didn’t think you would ever get used to his disposition, how he seemed to so fully believe every word he spoke. “You are Grisha—you should get to live like one.”

You stayed silent. The luxury might have made you uncomfortable, but you were not going to speak against it. This was your life now, after all.

“I’ve heard you’ve been training frequently with Squallers and your Tidemakers,” the Darkling said. Though he looked unbothered at his role in filling your silence, he would not lead this conversation.

“Yes,” you said, grudgingly taking the unsaid hint. “It was…” you sighed, allowing the smile to tug at your lips. “It was amazing, truly. To be around others like me without fear.”

The lines of his face softened at that, just slightly. “Good. Are the Grisha taking well to you?”

“Well enough,” you repeated. “I’ve found friends in all the Tidemakers. As for the rest, I mind my own. They have no problem with me.”

Kirigan frowned, and he took another few steps closer. “You don’t need to merely mind your own. You are one of them.”

“Do not try and force friendship beyond what it is,” you said, voice stilted. “I am content with this, General. I will be housed and clothed and fed, and I’m far from those that wish to hurt me. I never sit alone at mealtimes, and I’ve smiled more this week than I have in many years. This is far more than I could ever ask for.”

The Darkling looked as if he wanted to object, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m here to serve Ravka and the King,” you said, “correct?”

“Correct,” he answered.

“Then I see no problem.”

He watched you, gaze all-encompassing, stoic as ever. That was what bothered you about the General more than anything—you could not read him, no matter how you tried, but it felt as if he could see right through your every word.

“What brought you here?” Kirigan eventually asked. “I did not think you would be interested in our Saints when you have a God of your own.”

“I… have a strange relationship with Djel,” you said after a moment of hesitation.

The Darkling looked on with interest. “Oh?”

“Fjerdans believe the world is connected through its waters, that they feed Djel and are fed by Him in turn,” you said. “You can imagine the turmoil I went through when I discovered my abilities.”

Somehow, the Darkling’s eyes softened. “Split between two worlds.”

You nodded. “At first, my parents believed it was a blessing from Djel Himself—a daughter able to control the very waters that He provided, a reward for putting up with a girl instead of a second son. And then they realized I was not a blessing, but a curse.”

“They did not hurt you,” the Darkling said, an unexpectedly dangerous edge to his voice, “did they?”

Your smile wasn’t much of one, rather a flattening of your lips into a thin line. “No. They merely banished me.”

His brows knit together. “I’m sorry.”

“They tried to adapt, but it’s not an easy feat to undo decades of rhetoric.” You shrugged. “They would’ve put a knife in my heart while I slept had I not left willingly, I’m sure. It was not as if I had much choice.”

“Your brother,” he said. “What of him?”

At that, you could not help but laugh, mirthless and numb. “He had no idea. He was off training to become a drüskelle.”

“You’ve always been surrounded by enemies,” he murmured.

“My family is not the enemy,” you said quietly. “Just misguided.”

The Darkling laughed, something cold and sharp and unsettling. “Yes. The desire to put a dagger in their daughter’s heart is misguided.”

Your throat bobbed. A part of you still loved your family, despite everything they had done—everything they hadn’t done. You didn’t know whether that made you weak, stupid, or sentimental. You didn’t think you wanted the Darkling’s view on it.

“Do you find our Saints a worthier subject?” Kirigan asked in your silence. “They’re not a symbol of hatred, so surely they’re held in higher regard.”

You met the Darkling’s eyes once more, and yet again you saw nothing. Whether he was trying to gauge you or judge you or, for some saintsforsaken reason, truly wanted to know you, you had no clue, and it was frustrating beyond belief.

“Yes,” you finally said. “If only because I see myself in them.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

“All of your Saints, they were normal people while alive. They walked among us just as anyone else. Only in martyrdom did they ascend.” You looked around at all the tapestries. “It is far easier to connect with someone who used to be just as you rather than a faceless God, whether it hated you or not.”

“Sankta Ursula of the Waves, for example,” you said, glancing back at the woman in front of you. “We know her as Sënje Ulla. In your story, the Fjerdans believed her to be possessed by demons simply because she worshiped the Saints. They tried to drown her—”

“But she survived. The city was destroyed in her wake,” the Darkling finished. “I know it well.”

When you looked back at him, his jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Just as quickly, the hard lines smoothed out, and you were left back where you started.

“…Yes,” you said. “I feel some connection to her, a woman persecuted for something out of her control. How they tried to destroy her, but it only led to their own downfall.”

“Do you look up to her because it’s something you wish for?” the Darkling asked. “Harm to befall those against you.”

You frowned, expecting the answer to immediately fall from your lips, but instead it lodged in your throat.

“It is not a bad thing to want,” he said softly.

“It is not what I want,” you countered quickly. “Not— not exactly. I want safety— I want asylum. I was raised in a country that wanted me dead. You cannot blame me for wanting the same.”

“I don’t blame you.” Again, he spoke in that frustratingly level tone, voice irritatingly understanding. It made your teeth itch, your skin crawl. He was too… too nice, for a man of his reputation and standing.

And so you asked.

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice was strained, your unease betraying itself.

“Doing what?” he asked, and you hated how genuine he made it sound. How he always questioned you to keep his strength and acted as if he merely wanted to know.

“Indulging me,” you muttered. “You’ve just met me, and yet you follow me around, validating my every word. I am not worth this, General. I don’t understand why you won’t just leave me be.”

“…The same reason that you found yourself here tonight,” Kirigan said. “I am able to connect with you.”

“That is ridiculous,” you huffed. “You’re the most powerful Grisha in the world, and I’m some… some stray that you picked up out of pity.”

“It was not pity,” the Darkling frowned. “You needed help. We gave it to you.”

“And I’m thankful for it,” you said. “But there is no need for anything more. You could have left after your recruiting tactics and remained cordial, and it would have been the same.”

“I see something in you,” he murmured, and his words sent chills down your spine. “You may not, but I do. You are powerful, yes, but your potential is… breathtaking.”

“You act as if you know everything about me, General,” you said wryly. “But did you know that I am afraid of drowning?”

“Most fear drowning because they have no way of escape,” the Darkling said. He’d closed the distance without your knowledge, and when you glanced he was just behind you. “You control the seas themself. How could you fear them?”

“Do you fear the shadows?” you asked.

“No,” Kirigan stated. “I control them.”

“Exactly.” You offered a mirthless smile. “It is one of the cruelest ironies of my life. I do not control the seas. They control me.”

“That is why you are here,” he said. “You will learn to wield the power in your veins rather than fear it.”

“I don’t think I will ever fully conquer that fear,” you said. “But that is a good thing.”

Kirigan’s brows creased slightly. “Why?”

“If I fear the power I wield, I will never use it against those unworthy of its wrath,” you said.

“If you fear your power, you will never be able to unlock your true potential,” the Darkling countered. “If you fear your power, you will lose control even quicker.”

“Fear allows me restraint,” you said.

“It holds you back.” Kirigan took a step closer to you, so close that you could see every detail in his kefta. His presence was stifling, even more so when he held out his hand. “May I?”

Blood pounded in your ears. You offered your hand.

He took it, encasing your hand between his, and you felt the same surge as the other day. Icy fire in your core, the manifestation of your power instantly at your fingertips begging to be let loose.

Your breath caught in your chest.

“That is your power,” Kirigan stated matter-of-factly. “It responds to your call. You control it.”

“How can you do that?” you whispered. It was like your voice wouldn’t go above it, afraid that you would shatter the sanctity.

“I am a living amplifier,” he said softly. “But all I’m doing is showing you what you are truly capable of, if you can move past the fear that paralyzes you.”

“Please let go,” you whispered.

The Darkling complied and you pulled your hand away. The air returned to your chest, your power receded back to its depths, but the cold still remained, creeping over your skin like the permafrost in your homeland.

“Many Grisha struggle with restraint,” he said. “It seems you have the opposite problem.”

“I’ve spent years suppressing myself, General,” you murmured. “It is not easy to undo a lifetime of hatred.”

“Believe me,” Kirigan said quietly, a tight smile pulling at his lips, “I am well aware. Why do you think I built this sanctuary?”

“I’m working at it,” you said. “Why do you think I have not run?”

Some form of amusement seemed to pass through his eyes, and he nodded as he withdrew from you.

“I will leave you to your devices,” the Darkling said. “I hope our talk has done something for you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You nodded, the motion slightly numb, and he walked out of the church and left you alone. His presence lingered even in his absence; a stifling sort of power in the air, traces of warmth on your hands.

The most powerful man in Ravka had his eyes on you, believed in your potential so strongly he saved the life of a Fjerdan. You had to meet his expectations, lest he regret the chance he’d given you.

(My Tidemaker, you couldn’t help but think with unease.)

You didn’t want to imagine what would happen if you couldn’t.

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback

#the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #the darkling fic #aleksander morozova fic #the darkling #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #x reader #sadie writes

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cavillanche · 3 months

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Compassion

Aleksander is drawn to an injured healer. Rated T ~3,000 words

___________________________________

General Kirigan strode through the camp toward the medical tents. When word reached him of the attack against a group of healers traveling to the front, he was in his carriage in less than two minutes.

"How bad is it?"

"It's bad, sir." The camp healer wiped his brow. "There were six of them traveling when they were hit. One died there with one of the guards. Another died in transit. The others barely survived."

"The surviving guard?"

"Through here."

Kirigan stood over the heartrender guard while the healer woke him from sleep.

"General, sir."

"Don't try to sit up." Kirigan sighed. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The man recounted the ambush. "We would all be dead if it weren't for her."

"Her?"

"One of the healers, sir. Nadia, I believe. She was one of the first injured, and took multiple hits, but she managed to keep healing the rest of us. I don't know how she found the strength."

"Rest." Krigian put a hand on the man's shoulder, then turned to the camp healer. "Take me to this healer he spoke of."

Deeper into the tent, the woman lay unconscious. Gashes crossed her cheeks and forehead. Blood soaked her braided chestnut hair.

"Her kefta stopped damage to the major organs, but she had several injuries to her face and head, and her leg was broken. The bone broke the skin. There are only two healers here at the camp, myself being one. We've had to split our attention to keep them all alive and comfortable. So, none are fully healed yet."

Healing when hurt wasn't easy, but to heal so many others in her condition, Kirigan knew this woman was special.

"Can she be moved?"

"We have nowhere to move her, sir."

"To the Little Palace. Can she be moved?"

The healer fumbled over his thoughts. "It would be risky, but possible."

"Risky how?"

"A jarring ride could open a healing wound."

Kirigan looked around the tent at the couple of people sitting up in their cots. "What about the other healers? Are any of them able to travel? To help keep her comfortable?"

"Yes," he nodded. "One could."

"Good. Prepare this woman to ride back with me in my carriage. Whatever needs to be done."

"Yes, General."

The camp healer walked away to carry out the order, but Krigian stayed for a moment. He put a firm hand to her head.

"What makes you such a fighter?"

He slipped out before anyone saw.

The ride back to the Little Palace was longer than usual. Kirigan ordered the driver to go slow and take the easiest path, but the woman still groaned in her sleep as the carriage rocked.

"What's your name?" Kirigan asked the accompanying healer.

"Liliya, sir."

"And her name?" He nodded to the floor where she lay on the stretcher.

"Nadia Kozlova, sir."

"Is it true? Did she save your life?"

"I don't remember much, sir. It happened so fast. But I do remember when I hit the ground. The attackers seemed to know that the kefta would protect us. They went for our heads and legs. My leg was broken like hers. I looked over, barely able to focus on breathing let alone healing, and she was healing my leg from where she fell. Then she moved to the next person."

"If you are well enough, Liliya, I'd like you to care for her once we are at the Little Palace."

"I'd be honored to help her, General. I owe her a debt."

—

Nadia woke up in a strange room. Lush and pleasant, but unfamiliar. That was the part that frightened her. Her eyes darted around the room looking for the door when she spotted a familiar face sleeping in the chair next to her bed.

"Liliya? Liliya!"

Liliya jolted awake and got to her feet.

"Nadia, you're awake. Oh, Saints. You had me so worried."

"Where are we?"

"We're home." Liliya smiled.

"Little Palace? But this isn't my room."

"No, General Kirigan put you in one of the suites."

"The General? Why?"

"Because of what you did. Nadia, you very well may have kept us all alive."

"She very well did." General Kirigan appeared in the doorway. Liliya stood, and Nadia tried to sit up. "Please, stay resting. Liliya has done a good job healing you, but you deserve a rest."

"I was only doing my job, sir."

"Until your last breath. Or it would have been had the extra guards not arrived when they did." He nodded at Liliya. "Leave us."

After Liliya was gone, Kirigan took her seat.

"The other healers just lay there. Dying. You healed them all as you lay broken. Where did you find the strength when others couldn't?"

"Simply a will to live, sir."

"Yet no one was healing you."

"I just… I couldn't let them lie there in pain. Not if I could help."

"Compassion for our people. Not something often seen, even among our own." The General stood. Nadia tried to sit up, but he put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. "When you are well again, I would like you to stay on as my healer. Your power is unlike the others. Stronger. I may need that at my side one day."

"General Kirigan…" He put out his hand to stop her as she sat up. "Please," she said, "let me rise to accept. I am well enough."

A smile tugged at the dark General's lips. "Very well."

Nadia got to her feet and stood as straight as she could. The realization that she was in a night dress almost made her flinch, but she faced her General.

"I accept, sir. It would be an honor.

"Good. Now, back to bed."

The grin on his face made her laugh. "Yes, sir."

He held her covers while she climbed back in, then pulled them over her.

"I will return your healer to you. When she says you are ready, your service will begin."

"Yes, General."

—-

Nadia followed two paces behind General Kirigan, to the left of his heartrender, Ivan. Kirigan had barely spoken to her since she took the position as his healer, yet she was with him most hours of the day.

This day led to a meeting with the leaders at the front. More planning. More strategizing. Nadia sat in the corner of the room, bored almost to tears. The only thing that kept her from falling asleep was watching him. Kirigan fascinated her. He was intelligent. He was powerful, and feared by many, but he had a calmness to him. Some found it more terrifying than if he had an ill temper, but not Nadia. Something in his calmness spoke of a life of experiences she couldn't imagine.

She'd seen him angry once, and that most definitely scared her, because the calmness remained, barely cracked, as he seethed out an order through gritted teeth. The shadows that followed him surged before he took a deep breath and pushed them back.

She saw that anger bubbling now as the meeting came to a close. She'd paid no attention to the discussion, so she had no idea what made him angry, but she could see it beneath the surface.

He held up a hand as Nadia and Ivan followed him from the room.

"Leave me."

They stopped as he continued down the hall.

"Do we wait here?" Nadia asked Ivan.

"No. He'll call for us if he needs us."

"He looks upset. Should we make sure he's all right?"

Ivan scoffed. "Sure. If you have a death wish."

He walked away, but Nadia followed the General as he turned the corner at the end of the corridor. He was headed toward his chambers.

She almost froze as the slamming door echoed down the hall. Maybe she did have a death wish. She hesitated before knocking.

"Go away!"

"Sir," she raised her voice to be heard through door, "I'm sorry, sir, I just—"

The door flew open. "What do you want?"

"You seemed upset. I wanted to check on you. Is there anything I can do?"

Kirigan narrowed his eyes, and Nadia braced herself for a berating. Instead, his eyes softened and his shoulders fell.

"Come in." He closed the door and removed his kefta. "What can a healer do to soothe anger and frustration?"

He stood at his desk, shifting papers around.

"I can't help as a healer, but as a person… I'm a good listener."

"You were in the room for the meeting. If you're such a good listener then you should already know what's bothering me."

"I must admit, I tend to lose focus in those meetings. I'm not military minded. I get a bit…"

"Bored?"

He grinned and Nadia relaxed a bit.

"Yes, sir."

"So, your compassion goes beyond healing the fatally injured."

"I hope so, sir. Otherwise, what good is it?"

He stopped and stared at her so long that she had to look away. She fidgeted, thumbing the ring on her index finger.

"You shouldn't play with your amplifier."

"How did you know?"

"I noticed it while you were still recovering. Your power is much stronger than other healers. An amplifier would make sense. And still…" he walked around his desk and stood in front of her, "even without the amplifier, your powers have always stood out, haven't they?"

"Yes, sir."

"I sensed it from the moment I saw you. So much power, yet you still care so much for others. You are truly special, Nadia."

Her face flushed, and she looked down.

"Perhaps sharing my concerns with you would help ease my anger."

Kirigan paced while he recounted the meeting. Despite her lack of military interest, Nadia listened intently. Her focus never wavered, even as the shadows grew. Nadia stood quietly until the room was almost devoid of light. Then she risked touching his hand.

"Sir…"

"What?"

"Your darkness is consuming us."

"Surrounding, not consuming." But even as he spoke, the shadows withdrew. "Were you afraid?"

"No, sir. But I've noticed that your shadows expand when you're upset. Only, these weren't receding."

"Not afraid. Worried about how I felt."

"Yes, sir."

Krigian brushed a finger over Nadia's cheek.

"You are special," he whispered.

"Does no one else show concern for you, sir?"

"Only when they believe my troubles will affect the outcome of a battle."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Call me Aleksander."

"What?"

"When we're alone, call me Aleksander."

"Sir, I don't think—"

"Please." He splayed his hand across her cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

Words failed her, so she nodded.

"Thank you for your compassion, Miss Kozlova."

"Nadia."

Aleksander smiled. "Nadia."

She stilled as he leaned toward her. His hand slipped from her cheek, down her neck, and pulled her closer until a knock on the door made her jump back.

"What?" Aleksander yelled.

"I have an urgent update, sir." Ivan replied through the door.

Aleksander sighed and kissed Nadia's hand. "Thank you for checking on me."

"Of course."

—

Nadia followed behind Aleksander and Ivan. More bad news from the front had the General changing tactics. Ivan listened to the orders as they entered Aleksander's chambers.

"Dismissed."

Ivan nodded and Nadia turned to follow him out.

"Not you, Miss Kozlova. You stay."

Ivan sent a raised eyebrow her way, but left and shut the door.

"Is there something you need, sir?"

"Yes." He pulled the collar of his shirt aside to reveal a large burn where his neck met his shoulder. "I got a bit too close to a new inferni while he was practicing."

"You weren't wearing your kefta."

"No."

He hissed as he pulled his shirt over his head. The burn went down his arm, to his elbow.

"Were there no other healers around?"

"I wanted you."

She looked up into his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"No time. This is the first private moment I've had all day."

Nadia crossed her hands, then moved them down the burn, hovering over Aleksander's skin. He sighed with relief, then took her hand.

"Thank you."

"It's my job."

Aleksander slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her forward. He paused, his lips hovering over hers.

"This is not part of your job. May I?"

"Yes."

He smiled and softly pressed his lips to hers. Nadia brushed her fingers over his jaw, then slipped her hand into his hair, deepening the kiss. Aleksander wrapped his arms around her waist as she slid her hands down his bare chest.

He broke their kiss for just a moment and rested his forehead against hers, then he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber. It wasn't until he lay her down that she realized the extent of his intentions.

"Aleksander, wait."

He froze, but didn't pull away.

"What's wrong?"

"This is just… it's too fast." She panted the words. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "I'm a patient man."

His wide smile made her blush, and she bit her lip. Aleksander tugged at it with his thumb, pulling it from between her teeth, and kissed her again.

"I should go," she said.

"Please stay. I did need your healing powers, but I also want your company. I promise to behave myself."

He led her back into the other room and pulled his shirt back on.

"And what will we do?"

"Talk. Kiss?"

Nadia laughed. "Both appealing choices."

Aleksander leaned against his desk and smiled. He was more relaxed than she'd ever seen him as he reached out his hand. She hesitated, but took it, and he pulled her into his arms.

"Did Ivan know about your burns?"

"Yes."

"And did he try to murder the poor bastard who did it?"

Aleksander laughed. "He probably thought about it."

Nadia rubbed down his arm where his burns were.

"Why didn't you call for me right away?"

"I can't be seen as weak."

"Those were serious burns."

"I've had worse injuries. I knew you would heal me eventually. I could endure the pain for a while."

"You endure so much already. Let me help where I can."

His eyes widened for just a moment. "What do you think I endure?"

"Think? No. It's obvious that you endure the responsibilities of leading an army. You endure the burdens of the Grisha, our suffering and survival. No one can endure all things alone, Aleksander. Not even a man as powerful as you."

He caressed her face with both hands.

"You see me so well, do you?"

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll never mention it again."

"I do bear the burdens of our people… in many ways. Everything I do, including leading the army, is for them."

"I know." She smiled. "I see your compassion. And yet, you think mine is special."

Aleksander kissed her so hard that she whimpered. His hands slipped back to her waist, and pulled her closer.

Nadia turned away to breathe, but he continued down her neck.

"I'll have to check your definition of 'behaving.'"

Aleksander laughed. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to help myself when I'm alone with you."

"Then, perhaps I really should go."

"I have some free time tomorrow. Will you go riding with me?"

"Just us?"

"Just us."

"That sounds lovely."

—

Nadia stood at his door. Their first night back at Little Palace. She'd tossed and turned all night, trying to sleep after the horror she witnessed on the battlefield that week. Sleep only brought nightmares.

She knew if she knocked on his door she might no longer be able to resist him. The past few months had been spent stealing kisses and talking long into the night. Was she ready to admit her feelings? Did he truly see her as more than a conquest?

With a deep breath, she knocked. She waited for him to call out, but there was no response. She was ready to knock again when he opened the door.

"Nadia… is everything all right?"

"I couldn't sleep. I thought you might be awake."

"Come in."

The room was shrouded in shadow, and Nadia pulled her robe tighter around her.

"Aleksander, you're upset."

He glanced around the room, but the shadows remained.

"We lost so many people this week."

"I know." She took his hand and caressed his face.

"It's been a while since I've had a good night's sleep. It makes it harder to fend off the darkness sometimes."

"Then try to sleep. I'll leave you to rest."

"Stay."

"Aleksander, I can't—"

"No. I only want your presence. Just lie with me." He pressed her hand against his face. "Please."

The darkness seemed to surge around them.

"I'll stay."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips then led her to his bed. Robes removed, they slipped beneath the covers, and Aleksander pulled Nadia into his arms.

"If we blow out the bedside candle we won't be able to see each other in this darkness," she said.

Aleksander pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes. The shadows retreated, and the moonlight seemed even brighter than usual. He blew out the candle.

"I always want you to see me, Nadia. You're the only one who does."

She caught a glimpse of tears in his eyes.

"Surely someone has seen the real you before."

"Once. Many years ago. She was a healer, too."

"What happened?"

"She was murdered in front of me."

"I'm so sorry."

"I loved her."

Nadia rested a hand on his chest. "And have you loved since?"

He stared at her so long that she thought she'd offended him.

"Not until now," he whispered.

"Aleksander… I…"

Nadia brushed her fingers over his jaw. She never thought this man could ever love her.

"Make love to me, Aleksander."

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He took the hand at his chest and laced their fingers together.

"Not tonight," he whispered. "I don't want our first time to be out of a shared misery."

Nadia smiled. "I can wait."

"You won't have to wait long." He grinned. "Tonight, I just want you in my arms."

"That's where I'll be."

#Ben Barnes #Aleksander Morozova #General Kirigan #Shadow and Bone #Aleksander Morozova fic #General Kirigan fic #Shadow and Bone fic #Ben Barnes fic #my fic #I made this

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mr-and-mr-mitchell · 9 months

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You pulled me in, I'm one step behind

The Crows are cornered by General Kirigan. Unfortunately for them, he doesn't just want want dead.

Warning: Dark, mature.

#fic rec #fic #shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz brekker #kaz brekker fic #the darkling #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova fic #shadow and bone fic #the darkling x kaz brekker

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asirensrage · 2 years

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Consequences

Title: Consequences Fandom: Shadow and Bone Rating: M Pairing: Slight Aleksander x unnamed OC Word count: 3420 Warnings: dark!fic, grey!oc, threats, coersion, being offered as a sacrifice, swearing, use of a knife, attempted murder, actual murder (or would it be manslaughter?), blood consumption, violence, demon!aleksander

Summary: Based on the scary story prompts from @darkpromptsyouneveraskedfor. Prompts include: 15) "I made my sacrifice, now it's your turn." and 8) You're hired to house sit one of the heritage homes in town but realize you're not alone.

Horror prompts masterlist

Notes: This is a dark fic. Heed the warnings. There is attempted murder, friendships breaking and more. Shout out to @vixenofcourse who helped me with this. Enjoy!

“You just have to come, water the plants, hang out. It’s easy money.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

“Because I have plans.”

“Whose house is it again?”

“No one’s. It’s empty right now. The sellers are locked in some battle with buyers who want the rights to update it.”

“But isn’t it a…”

“Yeah. The fancy plaque on the wall says they’re not allowed to change a thing. That’s not stopping them from trying though. Just do me this favour. Please.”

“Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

She hangs up the phone and sighs. It’s not the best gig but at least it’ll be easy. All she needs to do is pick up the keys and check the place out. With her luck, it’ll be haunted but no one said she had to stay the night.

🏠

Her friend isn’t around when she goes to pick up the keys but it’s fine. There’s a coded safety case that realtors use and she knows the combination. The house is eerie. She hasn’t even gone inside yet but the exterior is all Victorian trim and dark colours. It looks like it belongs to the Addams Family. The plaque next to the door declares it a historical site. She stares at it for a moment. It’s the cause of all her problems, at least right now.

She gets the key from the box. It looks new, as though the locks have been changed but the door still looks like it belongs in the 1800s. She’s not entirely sure it’ll fit, and if she has to call her friend because someone left the wrong key, she’s going to be pissed. It’ll just add to this waste of time.

The key fits.

The door creaks open. An ominous warning to the dark that lies ahead. It’s a little impressive actually. They must have blocked the windows. That was creepy. Now that she thought about it, who were the original owners? Or the current ones. Jen never said.

She walks in. She had to water plants? In this place? The only thing that was going to grow here was mold. The door closes behind her. She turns as she’s shrouded in darkness. She left it open so she could find a light.

“Must have been the wind,” she says. “Closing…a very heavy door…” She rolls her eyes. It was just her luck acting up again. She never had much of it. It was the same reason she couldn’t hold down a proper job. Things just happened. Weird shit seemed to follow her and everything got blamed on her.

She digs out her phone and turns on the flashlight. That made it creepier. There was something about not being able to see everything around you. It made her feel like there was something behind her. She shudders.

“Alright, let’s just look around, turn on some lights and get out of here.”

Finding a light switch was harder than she expected. Original switches from the last time the house was renovated, before it was considered historical, look nothing like the ones she’s used to.

She finally finds the toggle switch but it doesn’t work. At least, nothing happens. “Of course, the place can’t even work…” She turns, looking around for another, when something touches the back of her neck. She jumps.

A quick turn, flashing the light around her, reveals…nothing. Despite the fact that something just touched her, she knows something touched her, nothing is there. She’s still in the silent, creepy house.

“And we’re done,” she says out loud. She’ll stand watch outside if she has to, but she’s leaving.

Wind blows past her as she leaves the room. She stops. Where did that come from?

“Nope. No, no, no,” she tells the house before heading to the door.

“Leaving so soon?”

She jumps again, turning towards the voice. She pushes her back against the wall, right by the door. “Who’s there?”

“We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.”

She moves the flashlight around until she finds him. The man is standing on the stairs facing her. She can’t make out his features very well, it’s too dark and he’s too far away. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she says, sounding far more confident than she feels. Cold creeps up her spine.

“Trust me, we’re exactly where we are both meant to be.”

She grabs the door handle, keeping herself facing the man. She’s not about to turn her back on a stranger, not in this creepy house and not when she was told no one is supposed to be here. “I’m going to go,” she says. “You look like you have this in hand.”

“I regret that you will not.” He seemed to disappear from her view and she turns, trying to find him again.

His face appears in front of hers. She jolts back, hitting the door hard. “I made my sacrifice,” he says softly. “Now it’s your turn.”

He leans forward, mouth parting and displaying rows of teeth that glisten in the little light there is. His eyes are black.

“I don’t think so!” She shoves him back. To her surprise, he actually stumbles. He looks at her confused. “I’m no one’s sacrifice!”

He stares at her for a moment, head tilted. “No,” he says softly. “I don’t believe you are.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, feeling as though it is either about to burst or stop completely. She can see him clearly now. He looks human but there is something off about him. It’s not only the black eyes and too many teeth. There is something that sets everything in her on edge.

He moves faster than she sees, gripping her jaw. It’s gentle and yet inescapable. Even trying to pull back slightly fails. He turns her face, examining her from all sides. “What a curious thing you are,” he says quietly. “She must not have known.”

“Who?” She can’t help but ask.

“The one who sent you here. She requested a boon, but they are not to be given without sacrifice. I would have escaped this prison with your death but now…”

“Hold on, my death?” She glares at him. “You’re telling me Jen sent me here purposefully to die?”

“Are you surprised?”

“You think?!” She scowls at the man in the dark. “Let me out. I’m going to kill her.”

His eyes seem to gleam in the light. “Are you?” He reaches out again, touching her face softly. There are claws on his fingertips. “Perhaps we could make a deal?”

“I’m not into deals,” she tells him, unimpressed at what he’s already suggesting.

He grins. It’s wide enough that it looks as though it will swallow his face. “Nothing like you’re thinking. Call her here. I was promised a human soul, not one like you. Bring her and I’ll tell you the truth of what you are.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She asks, staring at him. “You want me to call her, get her to come over here so what? You can kill us both?”

“Do you know what the boon she asked for was?”

“Obviously not.”

He smirks, amused by her sharp edges. “She sold your life away for wealth and the love of a man named John.”

“Oh for the–” She cuts herself off. “John?! Really? That asshole?” She can’t help herself. “She’s been obsessed with him for years and he knows it! He’s played her like a fiddle. Calling her when he wants sex and dropping her as soon as she presses for more and she still goes back for more!”

“Humans are frivolous with their affections,” he says mildly.

“She’d kill me to win that asshole? Fuck it.” She lifts her phone, shutting off the flashlight that was eating at her battery and succumbing to the dark and the thing in it. She’s pissed off now. It was one thing to set her up, to send her on this stupid task and try to sacrifice her. Hell, the economy was hard, she could understand it really, but for John? Hell no.

Her friend is in her recently contacted section. It goes to voicemail. Of course, it does. If she was setting her up to die, she probably didn’t want to hear her screaming. Well, two could play this game.

“Hey Jen,” she says in as light-hearted a tone as she can maintain once the voicemail beeps. “I’m trying the code you gave me but it’s not working. I can’t get into the house. Are you sure it’s the right one?”

She hangs up. “And now we wait.”

“Clever,” he praises.

She ignores it and turns her flashlight back on. She isn’t ready to wait in the dark with…whatever it is.

It takes about a minute for her so-called friend to call her back. Maybe it’s guilt? Maybe it’s a warning and she didn’t listen to the message.

She answers. “Hey.”

“You can’t get in?” There’s a trace of panic there. She wonders if she should be insulted at how fast Jen responded to that. How fast they listened for proof of her demise.

The thing in front of her is grinning again. She ignores it, stomach curdling in disappointment. “No, the code doesn’t work.”

“Are you sure? It’s 5935.”

She waits for a moment before she responds. “That’s what I tried. I just did it again, and got nothing. I’m just going to go home, okay?”

“No!” Jen nearly shouts it before trying to recover. “I mean, just wait. I can stop by quickly and check it. I have the override.”

“Then why am I here? You said you were busy.” She can’t help but dig into the lie now. She wants to see what the excuse is.

“I am. I just have a few minutes, like I said, but I can pass by. Just wait for me, okay?”

“Fine.” She hangs up. Was this really worth it? Could she send someone to their death?

“Tell me about this John.”

She scowls at the thing wearing a man’s face. “Can you read minds?”

“I don’t have to. It’s in your expression.”

“I told you everything you need to know.”

“Then tell me about you. Your parents, your life.”

She looks at him, at the eager twitch to his smile, and ignores the demand. She owes him nothing, even if the thing has offered to take Jen’s life instead. Anger sits in the base of her throat. A sacrifice. Things like that shouldn’t be real, they shouldn’t exist, but neither should the thing that looks like a man but has too many teeth. It’s better to be angry instead of hurt. It’s not the first time someone has tried to take something from her, or used her, but it stings every time and it has yet to get easier. Especially when she thought they were friends. Good friends.

“I’m not telling you anything about my family.”

“Well then I’ll guess, shall I? You’re the odd one out for no reason you can see or they can name? They forget about you frequently and with alarming ease and seem relieved at your absence? They meet your basic needs but take no joy in it, just performing an obligation and no effort is made to bond further?”

She bares her teeth at him. She doesn’t agree or disagree. It’s true that her family wasn’t the warmest or most supportive, but it didn’t matter. Her luck always ran in the worst ways and the people around her sometimes got caught up in it. That often included her parents.

He looks up, past her and towards the door. “She’s here,” he tells her.

“That was quick.” Another nail in the coffin. Another shred of proof at how much her ex-friend wanted the boon she was willing to trade another’s life for.

They fall quiet and she can hear her friend now, coming up the steps and calling her name. She doesn’t respond. She can’t. Not yet. She doesn’t know what to say and there is no real way to explain why she is inside. Especially after the call.

It doesn’t matter. A key scrapes against the lock and she moves back, behind the door so that she’ll be hidden when Jen enters. The thing looks amused but does not give her away. Instead, it seems to melt back into the shadows and she turns the flashlight off on her phone.

The lock gives way and the door opens slowly. The light from the outside illuminates the front hall and even from behind the door, she catches sight of things she missed when she entered. The way the staircase was rotting. The dust on the broken frames that were somehow still on the wall.

Jen calls her name.

Her heart pounds in her chest, regret and hope churning her stomach. This could be a mistake. It could…

“Did you get her?” Nevermind. Jen’s voice is dispassionate and curious. “Did she get inside? Where’s my prize?”

Her lip curls in a snarl at that. Jen moves forward and she takes the chance to close the door behind her former friend. It seems darker than before now that the light is extinguished.

“John?” she has to ask. “Really? That manwhore?” Jen turns to the sound of her voice but neither of them can see each other. She just knows that she’s still there. “That’s what my life is worth to you? I die in some gruesome manner so you can live happily ever after with a fuckboy who drops you on the regular?! You are some piece of work.”

“What are you talking about?” Jen gives a forced laugh. “It was just a joke.”

“Sure it was.”

“You honestly thought I’d sacrifice you?” she asks, peering into the shadows by the door.

“I think the thing that was ready to eat me is more believable than you are right now.”

“Lying does not become you, Jennifer,” the voice of the thing echoes through the dark. “You offered her life in exchange for wealth and the devotion of an unworthy man.”

“I–”

“Just admit it,” she says.

“It’s not like anyone was going to miss you!” Jen says it quickly, in one breath.

She swallows down the hurt at that. “That doesn’t excuse it!” she snapped back.

“You know,” the thing calls out. “I should really thank you, for all that you are unaware of the treasure you’ve placed before me.”

“I gave you a sacrifice,” Jen snaps towards the voice. “Where’s my gift?”

“There’s no sacrifice!” She snarls. “I am not fodder for your garbage happily ever after!”

“Take her!” Jen nearly screams. “You owe me!”

“I owe nothing,” the voice responds. “You, however, owe me a life.”

“I gave you one!”

“You owe a human life.”

Jen screeches at that.

She watches as Jen turns towards her, reaching out and leaping forwards. She jumps back but there’s nowhere to go, no space to lean out of Jen’s range trying to slash at her with what looks like a kitchen knife. She slams her hand forward, knocking Jen’s shoulder as she tries to shove her back.

“If he won’t do it, I will! I’ll get what I deserve!” Jen snarls as her fingers grab her hair and she feels a sharp bite along her side and a tug at her shirt as the knife is drawn back to strike again.

She tries to slam her elbow into Jen’s face but the positioning is awkward. As much trouble as she draws, she’s never really been in a fight before. She’s never had someone trying to kill her. One more shove and she hears the knife clunk onto the floor and skitter away in the dark as one of them kick it in the struggle.

“Help!” She calls out. She knows the thing is watching, can practically taste their eagerness for more bloodshed in the air. She’s not sure whose but she does not intend for it to be hers.

“Gouge her eyes,” the voice calls out. “Use your teeth!”

That wasn’t a bad idea. She turns, wincing as Jen’s grip pulls her hair harder with the motion, and bites down on her arm.

Jen screams and lets go.

She grabs Jen’s hair, repayment of course, only this time she does her best to slam her former friend’s head into the wall. Jen tries to shove her off, but after the first successful hit, the woman is dazed and she does it again and again.

The anger comes out then. The betrayal and fear and desire to survive all come out as she slams Jen’s head over and over. It’s only when she actually feels blood on her hands that she comes back to herself and let’s go. Jen crumples at her feet.

“Oh my god.”

There is slow clapping and her attention returns to the figure who moves closer. She can make him out now in the dark. It’s almost as if a light has been turned on somewhere, just enough that she can start to make things out. Maybe it’s just that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

“Beautifully done,” it says.

“I didn’t–”

“You did.” It crouches down and she can see as it touches the blood that’s pooling around the head. It puts its finger in its mouth. “She’s not dead, yet. Thank you for that.” She’s not sure where he gets the knife from but she watches as he slams it down into Jen’s chest. He twists the blade and she looks away.

She inhales sharply. “You have your life,” she says. “We’re done.”

“Not yet,” the figure stands up. The dark eyes somehow shine as he grins at her. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Not even to know the truth?”

“About what? Her?” She motions to the body on the floor. “I don’t care.” And she doesn’t. Not anymore. She regrets that friendship now. She regrets letting her in.

“About what you are,” it says. “Why you didn’t meet the criteria for the deal.”

She pauses. That’s true. “And what am I?”

“Not human. Not completely.”

“I’m not interested in your games,” she snaps. “Either tell me or open the door and let me leave.”

“No games. Not with you.” It moves closer, a claw traces down her cheek and she tries not to flinch. “We could have a lot of fun. I could show you…many delights.”

“Are you going to tell me why you spared me or not?”

“There’s demon in you,” it says. “A rare thing.”

“Sure there is.” She rolls her eyes. “Can I go?”

It stares at her for a moment before it moves. Suddenly, the place is illuminated. The lights are lit and she is faced with what the thing actually looks like. It looks like a human man aside from the way his clothing seems to be made of the darkness. His hair is as dark as his sharklike eyes. “We can go wherever you want, but first. Allow me.” He bites his thumb before he reaches down and she hisses as he presses his fingers against the cut on her side. He drags them across the entire cut.

It burns, sharp and cold. She tries to pull back and he releases her, once the pain finally stops. She glares at him. “I didn’t invite you.”

“And yet I have the answers I know you want.”

She stares at it, at him, for a moment. “A demon, huh?”

“You may call me Aleksander.”

“That’s a human name.”

“Is it? Who knew.”

She snorts at that. “He’s funny too.”

“A good demon has all the best qualities,” he says. He bends down over the body again and inhales sharply. She almost thinks she sees something move, going from one to the other, but he simply licks his lips. He stands and motions towards the door which opens without a touch. “Shall we?”

She ignores the arm he offers and walks out. He follows and walks next to her.

“Your anger was wondrous to watch,” he tells her. “Sharp in the best way, but dangerously slow to rise in your own defence.”

She glances at him. Now that he’s out of the house, he looks more human. It’s some sort of disguise but he grins at her as he catches her looking.

“You’ve got a little demon in you,” he says.

“Okay?” It’s still a matter of opinion.

“Would you like a little more demon in you?”

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

#horror prompts #aleksander morozova fic #demon!aleksander #aleksander morozova x oc #the darkling x oc #darkling x oc #grey!oc #dark!fic #though not that dark tbh

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cannibalizedyke · 1 year

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🗝️aleksander morozova masterlist🗝️

key: ❤︎︎ - fluff, ☁︎︎ - angst, ★ - smut

coming soon!

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a-reverii · 4 months

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▸ REVERII'S DECEMBER FIC RECS

━━ ✰ THE WIZARDING WORLD.

sirius black

aren't promises meant to be broken? ⇢ @perpetuallydaydreaming

style. ⇢ @bealovesmarauders

his favorite neighbour. ⇢ @kquil

attention. ⇢ @/kquil

right where i want to be. ⇢ @appocalipse

the dark night. ⇢ @bruisedboys

oblivious. ⇢ @bitesizedgremlin

regulus black

hidden messages in foreign languages. ⇢ @applebutter-and-cinnamon

vivre d'amour et d'eau fraîche. ⇢ @/deactivated

his last letter. ⇢ @hamlets-ak

tricks and charms. ⇢ @curseofaphrodite

across the sea. ⇢ @/curseofaphrodite

the night we met. ⇢ @/curseofaphrodite

frosted practices. ⇢ @henqtic

remus lupin

by tired hands. ⇢ @luveline

skirts. @flwrbo

not so secret admirer. @/kquil

you're losing me. @astonishment

never his. @weasleykisses

wherever you stray i follow. @mediocre-daydreams

━━ ( navigation ) ( masterlist ) ( request )

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inknopewetrust · 1 year

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#🫡 in solidarity for all my hoes with so many promises #writer #fic writer #fic woes #x reader #stranger things #bridgerton #shadow and bone #sherlock #eddie munson x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #steve harrington x reader

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lieutenantwilliamrusso · 1 year

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Truce

A/N: You, Nikolai, and Aleksander come to an agreement. I fixed it. I fixed canon.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, oral sex (m/f), face riding, threesome

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

You're slumped in a threadbare chair while Aleksander paces and Nikolai lounges with his arm propped against the top of your seat.

"You cannot be serious." Alekesander bites out, dark eyes glinting with disbelief.

"Oh, please, so the only reason you've been coming to us each night is because you want to gloat? Threaten us perhaps? Nothing else?" You reply easily.

With Nikolai's newfound monster curling up around his insides, and the bond you share with Aleksander through the stag, the man in question has been able to visit either one of you at will.

"Threaten us with a good time, perhaps." Comes Nikolai's answer.

"Come on, Aleksander, a truce, for one night. It's not even real, you're the one who isn't even here." You reason, leaning forwards to pick up your tea and take a sip.

Aleksander is silent, a small frown pulling at his plush lips. But you know he's listening, you can see it on his face, in the tilt of his brows, the narrowing of his eyes, so black they seem to eat up the night outside.

"Tell me I'm wrong. That you don't visit us while we sleep, whisper in our dreams. That coming to see Nikolai while he's in the bath is just a coincidence. That you don't dream about me, too." You goad, lips curling into a smile.

You can see his frown beginning to melt as you point out how obvious he's been. You know he wants you, and on some deep, dark level, he's got a fascination with Nikolai as well. If you're honest, you're tired of this fight. Of losing innocent Grisha for the whims of powerful men. You want to go home, and you want to have Aleksander back on your side.

But right now, you want both of these men in your bed.

Aleksander's voice brings you out of your reverie.

"And if you are not wrong?"

"Then I would ask you to come here." You answer, setting down your tea as Nikolai's hands come to rest on your shoulders.

Aleksander begins to come forwards, and you stand to meet him. You take a step towards him, allowing Nikolai to move so he's at your side, shoulders touching.

When he's close enough that you feel the heat from his body, can trace the scars on his face with your eyes he pauses, seeking one last answer.

"A truce. Just for the night."

You nod, but Nikolai answers. "Just for the night."

Aleksander's lips are on yours and it's all you can do not to let your knees buckle. After weeks of hiding, sleepless nights and indescribable loss, you're here, mouths pressed together in a sloppy, rough kiss. You lunge into his arms, pressing the rest of you against him, too.

When you pull away, chest heaving for breath already, you turn to Nikolai. His cheeks are flushed, mouth red from biting his lips.

"Your turn." You say on a breath, stepping back to undo your uniform.

The two men turn to each other, regarding one another carefully for a moment before Nikolai takes the back of Aleksanser's head in one hand and leans in. When their lips touch the two groan quietly, and you press your thighs together at the sound. When your uniform has been shed and you're left only in your linen underclothes you turn back to them.

Aleksander's hands are on Nikolai's face, holding him in place. Nikolai has Aleksander's kefta in a death grip, pressing closer with each kiss. When you see Nikolai slip his tongue into Aleksander's mouth you moan out loud, lunging forwards to rejoin them.

You grip Nikolai's hair and pull him away, planting your mouth on his and slipping your tongue right in, unwilling to be parted from him. Aleksander takes the opportunity to wrap one arm around you, taking the fingers of his other hand to run through Nikolai's hair and over his neck, gently squeezing the nape.

When you've had your fill for a few seconds, you reach for Aleksander, pulling his face to yours and Nikolai's, slotting all three of your mouths together, sharing one kiss. Aleksander's tongue swipes against yours while Nikolai's slips into Aleksander's mouth. The three of you moan and pull at each other until Aleksander untangles you all.

"Bed. Now." He huffs.

You and Nikolai race to obey, Nikolai stopping to shed his boots and uniform jacket on the way. Aleksander reaches the bed first, shedding his boots and kefta on the chair next to it before removing his shirt.

His bare chest gives you pause, the blackened scars littering the skin like a map of the fold, cutting across the skin of Ravka. You feel a pang of guilt at the memory, wondering if any of this really had to happen the way it did. You wipe away any guilty thoughts when Nikolai joins you, shirtless, pants unbuttoned so the base of his hard cock is exposed.

Your mouth waters as you raise your head and catch Aleksander's eyes in the same place. You smile then, placing your hands on your hips and coking your head playfully.

"How do you want us, moi sovreigny?"

It’s Nikolai who answers as Aleksander’s eyes darken even further at your words.

“I want you on the bed, pants off. We’ll do the rest.”

You look over at Nikolai, his hazel eyes wild, blond curls already a mess. When he meets your gaze you read his plan on his face and your mouth begins to water at the thought. Without hesitation you strip the rest of the clothes from your body as Nikolai does the same, the two of you attempting to do it without removing your eyes from Aleksander’s own body as he reveals it to you.

In moments you’re bare to each other, the supple curve of your breasts, the thickness of both men’s cocks in clear view. Aleksander beckons you forwards, one hand moving to stroke himself.

When you and Nikolai reach him, Nikolai swats Aleksander’s hand away, replacing it with his own as Aleksander hisses at the contact. You start from Aleksander’s mouth, kissing him hard once more before moving over his neck, pale in the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

He groans at the attention, hips jerking up as Nikolai takes the tip of the other man’s cock into his mouth. You moan quietly, lavishing attention on any stretch of skin you can find, leaving little bites and kisses across it.

You move from his mouth to his jaw, down his neck and across his collar bones before laving over his nipples, giving each one a gentle bite as he gasps out in pleasure.

When you can’t take it anymore you slide all the way down, nudging Nikolai out of the way to slot yourself next to him, between Aleksander’s toned thighs. His cock sits hard and wet in front of you, and Nikolai wraps his fingers around the base of it, bringing the tip towards you. When you take it into your mouth you moan, tasting the salty hint of release on your tongue.

Nikolai pumps his hand in tandem with your mouth, until Aleksander is a writhing mess, one hand in Nikolai’s hair and the other fisted in Tue sheets beneath him. Nikolai moans at the harsh grip, grinding his hips down into the mattress.

“Oh, poor princeling can’t wait any longer can he?” Aleksander teases, the heaving of his chest giving away his desperation.

“Says you.” Is all Nikolai get out before Aleksander is pulling you off his cock.

“What did I do?” You whine.

“Come here.” Aleksander demands, pulling you until you’re seated over his mouth, his harsh breaths fanning over your heated core.

“Bring her your cock, prince.”

“I’m the king now, actually.”

“I don’t think that will matter in a second.”

You laugh at the two of them, leaning down to place a kiss on Nikolai’s length. You power swirls under your skin as Aleksander holds you, and you can feel the bond between you even now. You can feel the wanting.

You dip your head to suck Nikolai into your mouth as Aleksander licks at you. He buries his mouth in your pussy like he’s been starving for weeks, like he you’re the only thing that can save him. You moan and grind your hips down, coming up for air as he wastes no time slipping a finger into you.

You rock back onto it, already losing yourself to that sweet headspace only the two men beneath you can pull from you. The thought of being fucked tonight sends you deeper, until you’re lost to it.

You alternate, sucking one cock while stroking the other until you’re trembling, toes curling as the room fills with light, your first orgasm overtaking you as you ride it out on Aleksander’s tongue. When you’ve come down, he gently places you next to him on the bed, pulling Nikolai forward to kiss him, spreading the taste of you across Nikolai’s tongue.

Aleksander reaches down to wrap nimble fingers around Nikolai’s length, stroking gently as the other man whines. It’s a sweet, high sound he only releases when he’s close, and it makes you giggle, dumbstruck on the pleasure of it all.

When he pulls away, Aleksander turns to you.

“Who would you like?”

“Hm?” Is all your brain can muster.

Aleksander chuckles, Nikolai still in his arms.

“Looks like our summoner’s brain has leaked out of her cunt. Which one one of us would you like to fuck you first? You’ll take both of us tonight, little saint.”

You smile, opening your thighs as you close your eyes.

“Let’s see if I can figure out which one of you it is.”

Nikolai laughs and you giggle softly, biting your lip as you feel both men slide from the silken sheets. A moment later there are strong hands on your thighs, and your legs are pushed up towards your chest, exposing your glistening core to the air.

“Oh, Niko, you’ll have to try harder than that.” You taunt, opening your eyes.

“How’d you know?” He asks, pressing his forehead to your calf.

“You love this position.”

You both laugh as he slides in your slick heat, noises of amusement turning into groans of pleasure. He thrusts into you after a moment, fucking you deep and hard, the kind of all-consuming passion you’ve come to expect from the king.

While you’re being rocked into the mattress, Aleksander comes to sit beside your head, threading one hand into your hair and the other through your own fingers.

“You’ve done so well for us, milaya. It will be a pleasure to break you.”

It’s those words that send you over the edge again, gripping both men tightly as you arch your back and squeeze around Nikolai. His thrusts grow erratic for a moment before he’s following you over the edge, biting down on your calf as he releases inside of you.

You can feel the slick heat of his come as you tremble in pleasure, little whines escaping you.

Nikolai pants above you, taking the time to gently place your legs back onto the bed before placing a soft kiss upon your parted lips. He’s always gentle after, coaxing you into a bath or engulfing you in the soft heat of his arms.

Aleksander on the other hand would grip you like a vice, arms encircling you, reminding you there was no shelter better than him.

This thought of the Darkling brings you back to earth, eyes seeking the man in your mind. When you find him, he’s already at your cunt, swiping his fingers through Nikolai’s release spilling from you, taking some on his fingers to taste. The sight makes you clench around nothing, and you know Aleksander catches the movement when he smirks, popping one finger from between his lips, eyes glinting in the half-there light of the moon.

“On your front.” He says firmly, his hands joining Nikolai’s to turn you.

When you’re there, you raise your hips, pressing the front half of your body down into the bed, arching in anticipation.

He takes his time, knowing the waiting frustrates you, making you short with him. You know he’d love a chance to punish you, a hand across your ass, shadows held to your wrists like rope.

You don’t give him the satisfaction, eyes glued to Nikolai for balance, watching as he comes to sit in front of you, legs spread on either side of you. You pillow your head upon his thigh, breathing harshly as he pets you. Between the two most powerful men in Ravka, maybe the world, you feel sort of like a pet. And you don’t think you’d mind being at their mercy while they rule.

Your musings are interrupted when Aleksander finally pushes in, sliding all the way to the base easily. He’s just as thick as Nikolai, stretching you open around him as he builds a place for himself inside of you.

Little bursts of light bounce from your flushed skin as Aleksander’s hips collide with yours. It’s all you can do to cling to Nikolai and take it, the harsh pleasure of the Darkling. He fucks into you like you’re the only thing in the room, like there’s no one else he’d rather be with. It’s harsh, but possessive. This isn’t mindless treatment, it’s a reminder that you’re his.

And saints, you are.

Just like you’re Nikolai’s. And you think, deep down, they’re yours, too.

When you come you scream, nails digging into the meat of Nikolai’s thighs, face hidden from both men. Aleksander follows you seconds later, coming deep into you with a long growl, hips stuttering to a stop against your ass.

When he finally releases your hips from his bruising grip you slump down, the mixture of come slipping from your entrance as Nikolai soothes you.

Aleksander collapses next to you, his head on the outside of Nikolai’s other thigh. The king pets you both, soothing you into an easy slumber.

When you wake, the morning light streams in through the windows of The Spinning Wheel, warming your face. Nikolai is beside you, long lashes fanning across his tanned cheeks, one arm pillowing your head.

Aleksander is nowhere to be seen.

You can feel it, the lack of him, the space his presence leaves. You ache for him, both of them, and in the quiet space of the morning light you curse yourself for not telling him where you are.

You want to go home. Together.

“Stop thinking so hard, you look like you’re in pain, lover.” Nikolai mumbles, eyes just open to the morning.

“I want this to be over.” You say, meeting his gaze.

He strokes the backs of his fingers over your cheek, leaving trails of warmth in their place.

“I know. So it is.”

“What-”

You’re interrupted by a crashing series of knocks against the door.

“Yes?” Nikolai calls.

Tamar cracks the door and replies,

“Moi tsar, the Darkling has arrived.”

#aleksander morovoza #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #darkolai #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling #my fics

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carnationworld-writings · 1 year

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I'm just a jealous guy (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Aleksander Morozova x Grisha!reader

Universe: The Grishavers /Shadow and bone

Word Count: 1221

Requested: Yes, by my sweet annon.

Warnings: mention of jealousy, shouting someone out, mention death (Luda), making out, a quick mention of sexual activity - it ends before something happened.

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: The one where he is jealous.

Aleksander walked through the corridors of Little Palace, trying to find one of his most trusted Grisha, who was also the person who made his heart beat a little faster. He lived for centuries, hiding his identity from people, always hiding his emotions, and always striving to achieve his goals. But then they showed on his path - a person with great power and strong will. A person who always cared for the people they loved and who found a way to parts of his heart that he’d forgotten. Somehow, they’d ended up sitting together into late nights, talking about everything but plans for Grishas’ training or plans for the army. He allowed himself to open up for the first time since he lost Luda, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel again. He was afraid to call it as it was, but the truth was that he loved them. And they loved him.

The Darkling walked to the training yard, not minding Grishas, who welcomed him. He quickly knew he was in the right place and finally found them. He first heard their soft laugh and then saw them in the middle of the training yard with Fedyor, surrounded by younger Grishas. He knew that they loved to teach them, and they only showed these kids how to defend themself. But something deep in his mind made him angry at the sight of Fedyor’s hand around them. He watched how he moved his hands to their sides and started to tickle them. They squealed at the feeling and tried to escape from him, laughing loudly. The Darkling watched how close they were and how fondly they looked at each other. The betrayal blossomed in his chest. They gently tapped the Heartrender’s chest, smiling widely. Kirigan couldn’t watch it anymore and turned on his heel, quickly going to his chambers. What he didn’t know, they saw him at the last moment, and they started worrying about his hurried departure. They ended her part of the lesson and asked Fedyor to watch their training when they went after their General. After a few moments, they knocked on the doors of his cabinet. They smiled at the sound of this deep voice telling anyone behind them that he was busy. They dared to open them and snicked in, biting their lower lip.

“Maybe you’ll find a second for me, General?” They leaned against the door, watching him. They knew that even if he didn’t raise his head from maps, he knew it was them. They smiled at how his black kefta perfectly wrapped his tall body.

“Make it quick. I have a war to win.” They sighed and came closer to him, gently touching his elbow. When he didn’t change his position, they dared to lean against him, resting their cheek on his arm. They could tell that he was tense, and they hated it.

“I know, handsome, and you’re doing an amazing job. But even you, great General Kirigan, need some rest. And I saw you at the training yard.”

“You saw me?” He said mockingly. “You seemed busy with this Heartrender.” He moved away, taking his arm from their grip, and they looked at him surprised. They laughed breathlessly, standing in front of him.

“With Fedyor? He is only my friend. A very close friend, who was the first one to welcome me here with open arms and who made me feel at home here.” They said with a small smile, which faded when he constantly pretended they were not there. “If you want to accuse me of something, say it aloud rather than shutting me out.” When he heard the sadness in their voice, he stopped moving, and his eyes landed on the war figures in front of him. After a few seconds, he breathed deeply.

“Are they really ‘just a friend’?” He murmured without raising his head.

“Of course, they are just a friend. If you want to know, Fedyor lately was on a few dates with a person you know very well.”

“With who?” Alexander knew about their love for gossip. With time he discovered that it brought both of them joy, so he started encouraging them to spill a bean about it. He also wanted to be wholly sure that they were only his and that there wasn’t anybody else in their life.

“With your own personal Corporalki.” They couldn’t stop a big smile when he looked at them stunned.

“With Ivan?” They nodded, carefully watching his face. He started thinking about the latest behaviour of this man. “He was a little strange lately, in fact. Like… Happier.” They couldn’t stop the smile rising on their face, and once again, they tried to slowly touch his forearm. They breathed with relief when he didn’t move away this time.

“Because they are, both of them. Like I am happy when you are next to me because only our loved one can pull some of the strings in our hearts and make it beat faster in that specific way. So I will say it once again. They are only my friend. It’s YOU who has my heart.” They gently squeezed his arm, and finally, he moved closer to them with a look on his face reserved only for time when they were alone. His hands mindlessly moved to their hips, and in a quick move, he made them sit on the table behind them. They let the squeak leave their throat, making him smile widely at what they started laughing. Their hands slowly moved to rest on his shoulders, and one of them mindlessly started fidgeting with the ends of the hair on his neck.

“You… You made me happy, you know?” He whispered sheepishly, and they could only smile wider.

“I know. Were you jealous?” They bit her lips to stop grinning, especially when they saw a flush coming into his cheeks. He looked above them, trying to compose himself. Before he could answer, they leaned down and softly kissed his bearded cheek. “Please, don’t deny it. It actually… flatters me, you know? I… I always dreamed of having a person who would care for me enough to do it. Even if there isn’t any reason for that.”

The Darkling gently squeezed their hips, standing between their legs. His hand moved to their thigh, caressing it gently.

“I do care. Every single look from other men or women is enough to feel jealousy in me. To want to show all of them that you are mine.”

“And I always will be.” They whispered, and General immediately leaned down, kissing them deeply. One of his hands moved to the back of their head, gently moving it to allow him better access while the other kept them close. They moaned into his lips, wrapping one leg around him, wanting to feel every centimetre of his body. They were so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the knock on the door or that somebody had walked in. They were too busy unfastening his kefta to care about anything. Poor Ivan closed the door quicker than he ever opened them. After a moment of shock, Corporalki felt happiness for his General and his friend - even a dark soul like him deserved some light and love in the arms of a trusted person.

Author’s note: Thank you so much for reading! If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to hear your thoughts about it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and motivate me to work.

I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Taglists are always open! If you want to be added fill this up or send me an ask!

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atlabeth · 1 year

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another day - aleksander morozova

part 2

summary: general kirigan saves you. but nothing comes without a price.

a/n: yes this is me in my shadow and bone era. what do you have to say about it

wc: 2.2k

warning(s): canon levels of violence, drowning + murder, but mostly in mini flashbacks, typical darkling manipulation. probably ooc but this is my first fic for the grishaverse so give me some grace pls

drüskelle = witchhunter

drüsje = witch

strymakt fjerdan = fjerdan might

You were drowning.

You were drowning in a storm of your own creation, water filling up your lungs, salt stinging your eyes, screams echoing all around you, you were killing them—

A shuddering gasp tore out of you as you surged up, and haggard breaths ripped through you. You weren’t in water, you were alone, but you still couldn’t breathe, your chest rising and falling as quick as your heart beat.

Your hands found purchase in the sheets below you, clawing at the rough linen as you pulled your legs up to your chest, each breath quicker in succession. Your eyes darted around, taking in your surroundings—far too nice to be a prison cell, far too warm to still be in Fjerda—and slowly, you began to calm down.

Perhaps that wasn’t the correct phrase. You’d managed to control your breathing to a respectable level, but you certainly were not calm—last you remember, you were in a fight for your life against some lovely drüskelle, and now you were in…

Saints, you had no idea where you were.

But you were not dead, and that counted for something indeed.

Carefully, cautiously, you stood up from the bed. Your quarters could be considered a room in the barest sense of the word, consisting of a small bed shoved in the corner and little else. You shivered slightly, and you glanced down at your clothes. At least they hadn’t taken the tattered rags you’d been traveling in for ages, you thought wryly.

Nicer than a Fjerdan prison cell, true, though that didn’t mean you were not a prisoner. Wherever you’d ended up might treat their captives slightly better than your home.

You were dry, though. Both of water and blood, which you realized no longer stained your arms. Your injuries had healed as well, scabs and thin white lines in place of cuts and slashes.

You could certainly mark Fjerda off your list, then. There wasn’t a single soldier who would have treated you with such kindness.

That was the strangest thing. You were not dead.

You were just about to try the door when you heard the lock click, and you stumbled back as it opened. Your heart hammered in your chest at the sight of a man in the doorway, though he had the decency to pause when he saw you.

“Ah,” he said, his lip curling in the smallest of smiles, “you’re finally awake.”

“Where am I?” you asked, and your voice was raspy from disuse. How long had you been asleep?

“I believe introductions should be our first order,” he said, and he closed the door.

You took a step back, hands clenched at your side.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. “It would be rather foolish of me after all the work I put in saving you.”

Screams. Your screams, faltering in beats as you fought with everything in you. Ragged, from your very core, because you were going to die.

“You saved me,” you repeated, little more than a whisper.

“Do you remember?” the man asked, gaze unmoving from your face. His irises were of pure darkness, black as the loneliest night, and you felt wholly and completely bare in front of him. Another shiver ran down your spine. “You were hardly alive when we found you.”

Wrenched out of the water, limbs leaden and heart thundering as you were forced to your knees. Exhaustion tore through you, black spots dotting your vision, and the dead men in the shallows gave you no satisfaction because soon you would join them.

You nodded shakily.

“Good. That will make this easier.”

“The drüskelle,” you managed. “What happened to them?”

“I killed the commander with the knife to your throat, but he was the only one left. The rest of the lot were drowned.” Again, the beginnings of a smile, morbid for the conversation. “By your hand.”

He knew. Saints, he knew, and you were locked in a room with him with no way out, and you’d gotten away from the drüskelle just to die here.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said. He could hear the beat of your heart, surely, how it wanted to pound out of your chest. “Fjerdan waters are dangerous on their own, nevermind in a storm—”

“There is no point in lying,” he interrupted pointedly. “You’re a Tidemaker, and a powerful one at that.”

Your heart sank. You couldn’t escape, not from here, not in your state, not in the driest Saintsforsaken room you’d ever been in—

“I already told you,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe here. You’re in Ravka. Os Alta.”

You frowned. “Ravka— how?”

“You’re Grisha,” the man said. “You belong here.”

And like lightning, it hit you.

“The Darkling,” you whispered. The step you took back was one of instinct, but your legs hit the side of the bed and they nearly buckled.

You weren’t the most educated on Ravka and its government, but one learned some things about their homeland’s fiercest enemy. You knew of the Second Army and their Grisha, of General Kirigan— the man that now stood in front of you, the man that had brought you back from Death’s door.

Sënje Magda, save you now.

“You have no reason to fear me,” Kirigan said. “Truly, I do not want to hurt you. I’m only here to help you.”

You huffed a mirthless laugh. “What could you possibly want with me?”

“You’re Fjerdan,” he said, “correct?”

You nodded.

“You’ve survived there all your life as a Grisha without anyone realizing,” he said. “You made it across half the country on your own with drüskelle tracking you for a quarter of it. And when they finally caught up to you, you destroyed their camp and killed the lot of them with nothing but your power.”

You raised your arms and the sea erupted around you. A tense second of silence hung in the air before you threw your hands down and roared, guttural and primal and broken, and brought the world down upon them.

Blood pounded in your ears. “I did what I had to do to survive.”

“And I do not malign you for it,” the Darkling said. “What they do to our kind is barbaric. I took pleasure in ending their commander.”

“You call us the monsters and then murder all my men,” he spat, wrenching your head backwards by your hair to bare your neck. The blade rested threateningly against your skin, but you were numb to the cold. “I should have ended you long ago, drüsje.”

Your fingers ghosted up to your neck. You could feel the slightly raised scar. “I thank you for it.”

“Believe me,” he said with a slight chuckle—you were surprised a man such as himself was able to laugh— “it was the easiest part of my day.”

“How long was I out?” you asked, the question clawing at your mind.

“A week,” Kirigan said, and your eyes widened. “It took us time to get from the coast back to the Little Palace, and you hardly even stirred the entire carriage ride. You truly pushed your abilities to the limit against the drüskelle. You were like ice, freezing and unmoving—I believe my Heartrender was the only reason you made it back. You’ve been resting here since then. I’ve been waiting for you to awaken.”

Your throat bobbed. He truly was responsible for your life, for getting you out of your wretched homeland.

You shivered. You didn’t like the idea of being in debt to the Darkling.

Kirigan looked at you for a moment more then shed his coat, fabric as black as his eyes pooling around his hands as he offered it to you.

“Oh,” you began, “no—”

“Please,” he interrupted. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve that much after what you’ve been through. I do not know if it’s from your being a Tidemaker, but you are always frozen.”

You hesitated, but you took it and slipped it on. Your skin was indeed cold to the touch—the rags you called your clothes weren’t much aid—and you had to admit that it helped.

“You will have clothes of your own soon,” Kirigan said. “And you will get a kefta as well, fit to your measurements.”

Your brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“You know of the Second Army,” he said, “how the Grisha serve Ravka.”

“I— but— I’m not—” you stammered, unable to form a full sentence, embarrassing as it was.

“Yes?” he said, almost patronizing. Your cheeks burned.

“I’m not Ravkan,” you managed. “I have no place in your army.”

“That is of no matter,” the Darkling said. “We take in Grisha from all over—Shu Han, Novyi Zem, Fjerda. Many willingly serve, especially from your homeland. I’ve worked with many Fjerdan Grisha and they all prefer honorable service to persecution.”

“So that’s why you rescued me,” you said stiffly. “So I could serve you.”

“Officially, you serve the King,” Kirigan said. “But in time, I would like you by my side.”

You shook your head, tightening your grip on his coat if only from instinct. “I don’t see how I can help you.”

“Then you clearly know nothing of yourself,” the Darkling said. “Surviving in Fjerda as a Grisha is no easy feat, nor is the journey you’ve made. Alone, at that.”

“Strymakt Fjerdan,” you said dryly. “That’s what my brother always told me.”

His lips quirked upwards. “Of course. But you know what you’ve done, the power you hold. You raised the sea and ended those men without any training. Imagine what you could do with Ravka’s resources at your hands.”

“I don’t want to fight,” you said weakly as you sat back on the bed. “I don’t want this power— I never wanted to be a Grisha. I just want to live a normal life without looking over my shoulder every second.”

“We do not get the chance to live normal lives,” the Darkling said softly. We, he kept saying, like he could understand what you were going through. As if he was like you, like you had any similarities beyond Grisha blood. “You are a Tidemaker—there is no running from it. Your only choice is what you make of it.”

The Darkling moved closer in your uncertain silence, taking a seat beside you. He carried an aura of power with him, not just in his abilities but in the way he moved. His assertions, his statements, it all seemed true just because of his demeanor. It was hard to think around a man like him, but you forced through it.

“You have the chance to be truly great,” Kirigan urged, and it bothered you how much it sounded like he believed it. “You were born Grisha for a reason, with your strength and resolve and bravery for a reason. A Tidemaker forged through the fire of Fjerda. You belong here, at the Little Palace, in Ravka—with me.”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. You hardly knew him, he hardly knew you, and yet Kirigan spoke as if he would lay down his life for you, as if he expected you to do the same.

“Join me,” the Darkling murmured, “and you will never lay at the foot of another again.”

You stared into his eyes, a lingering abyss that called to you. Your skin itched just looking at him, discomfort and intrigue and a desperate need to know more boiling over inside of you.

You had no choice. Kirigan knew that as much as you did, no matter how much he presented it as one.

You didn’t want to fight Ravka’s wars. You didn’t want to serve a king who’d done nothing to help you, to be part of an army that waged terror against your homeland.

But what else was there for you? You had nothing, no one waiting for you back in your homeland. No family, no lover, not even a bed to your name. If you stepped foot in Fjerda again, you would be hunted to extinction.

The Darkling was offering you life itself, a chance for another day. Wasn’t that what you’d been fighting for all along? Clawing through Fjerdan winters, surviving at the barest margins every day, losing more of yourself with every body you left behind you—all so you could escape the brand of drüsje and live like any other woman.

The life of a Grisha was not the life you wanted, but it was life. Only a fool would pass it up, no matter what it entailed.

You were many things, but you were not a saintsdamned fool.

“Okay,” you rasped, and your throat bobbed. “Okay. I’ll join you.”

The Darkling smiled, dark eyes crinkling at the side, and you had the strangest thought of his beauty. “Excellent.”

He placed his hand on your forearm, his surprising warmth shocking against the cold of your skin as he pulled you towards him. Power swelled up inside you even at the slightest touch, and you gasped at the feeling of it, icy fire erupting inside of you. The temperature plummeted inside the room and the frozen chill creeped through your veins.

“My Tidemaker,” he whispered. "We are going to do marvelous things together.”

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback

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marvelmusing · 4 months

Text

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: Theories about merzost, the very boundary of your powers, and your relationship with Aleksander are all put to the test as everything comes to a head.

Warnings: canon level violence, mentions of death and violence, animal death

A/N: this is a pretty hefty chapter, but I hope it makes up for the wait - enjoy!

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The fox is absent from your mind and Aleksander is nowhere to be seen when you wake in an unfamiliar patch of forest. Ravka is in the midst of a cold spring, but the flowers around you now are in full summer bloom. The stone beneath you, the ruins of a small fortress, is warm against your bare feet.

When you stare too hard at the distance, everything blurs into a haze of generic woodland – trees and thick greenery. A blue butterfly flutters across your vision, swirling in a cheerful loop around you that makes you too dizzy to follow.

“What is this place?” you ask your only companion, the girl who had been by your side when you awoke. She turns away from the rose bush she had been admiring, pale blue eyes wide and curious as she looks at you.

“You’re the durast; I was hoping you would have an explanation.”

“You’re Grisha?” She nods with a small smile, her eyes falling onto your hand. There’s a freshly healed scar across your palm, where you had cut yourself to reverse Morozova’s blood lock. “A healer.” She nods again and you close your fist, flexing your fingers. “Thank you.”

“It’s the best I could do. I never quite had the time to master tailoring before I died.”

“Died?” you repeat. She nods and you feel the blood run out of your face. “Am I dead too?”

She tilts her head, examining you for a moment.

“I don’t think so.”

That doesn’t reassure you. Desperate for some answers, you slump down onto the stone steps, tucking your knees up to your chest.

“What’s your name?” you ask her.

“Luda.”

She sits down beside you as you give her your name.

“Do you mind me asking, how did you die?”

“I was stabbed by one of the King’s soldiers.”

“When was this?”

Her brows crease together into a small frown, her head tilted aside.

“I’m not sure. I think time works differently here.”

History lessons at the Little Palace weren’t always your favourite, but perhaps you could figure out when Luda was still alive.

“What was the name of the king?”

“Anastas.”

“Oh.”

She’s quiet, eyes watching your reaction intently.

“Was that a long time ago?” she asks, though you suspect from her tone she already knows the answer.

You nod.

“Before the Fold.”

“What’s the Fold?”

You blink at her. The Fold is such a vital piece of Ravka’s history. A key feature on every map. A shadow that has been hanging over your country for your entire life. The idea of someone not knowing about it, of living in a Ravka without a mass of shadow dividing it, baffles you for a moment.

Luda listens intently, eyes wide as you describe the Fold and the state of your modern-day Ravka. There are tears in her eyes when you tell her about the Little Palace, your voice filled with nostalgia as you recount stories of your childhood – vastly different from hers. She’s sympathetic when you explain your struggles with helping Aleksander.

She tells you about the witch hunts and how she was cast out of her village at the age of six. With a melancholy smile on her face, she tells you about the man she loved, who had helped her rescue countless Grisha. It reminds you of Aleksander, which you mention to her.

It takes quite some time for the two of you to realise that her Aleksander is the same man as your Aleksander. But once you do, you’re both stunned. Luda is desperate to hear about him and you can see her heart break when you tell her how much he has suffered.

“Baghra warned him not to use merzost,” she admits. “Countless times.”

“Morozova used it,” you reason.

“Only to create his amplifiers. Aleksander is too selfless. He won’t see an issue with killing himself to keep the people he cares for safe.”

The two of you are quiet as you consider her words. Aleksander is selfless to a fault. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you and the other Grisha safe. He has proved that time and time again, killing him piece by piece each day. You only hope that you might be able to save him from such a tragic fate, if you ever return to reality.

“I think he’s here for you.”

Frowning, you turn to follow Luda’s gaze and find the fox – your fox – at the edge of the woods. He trots over the grass, heading directly towards you. It feels like a piece of your soul has clicked back into place as the fox threads his way through your legs.

Luda seems cautious despite her curiosity, her hand hovering above the fox’s body.

“Go on,” you encourage her softly. “He won’t hurt you.”

“He’s beautiful,” she whispers, tracing her fingers lightly over his shimmering fur.

He tilts his head, looking up at you with his amber eyes.

“It isn’t our time yet, is it?” you say to him.

He shakes his head, taking your sleeve between his teeth and tugging you in the direction of the forest. As you stand, intending on following the fox, Luda calls your name.

“Aleksander,” she says, her voice wavering as she grips onto your hands. “Tell him… tell him he did everything he could. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve made my peace with the time I had.”

Swallowing hard, you tighten your hold on her.

“You should have had longer.”

She smiles softly, cupping your cheek with a fond affection in her eyes.

“I can see why he loves you.”

You don’t quite know what to say to her. Aleksander himself hasn’t even told you that he loves you. His actions have shown how much he cares for you, but he has yet to say the words themselves. Having someone state it so confidently makes you bashful.

“He still loves you,” you say. Her expression turns dismissive, but you shake your head to stop her next words. “He isn’t the kind of man to let time or death stop his love.”

The corner of her mouth twitches with the hint of a smile, tears gathering in her eyes. In this moment, she looks delicate and emotion tugs at your heart, encouraging your own tears.

“If he ends up at the making before me,” you adjust your grip on her hands, staring down at them. “Take care of him.”

She nods, her smile unfaltering despite her tears.

“I have a feeling I won’t be seeing either one of you for quite some time.”

»»---------------------►

Sunlight warms your face, and you blink rapidly as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. A small groan catches in the back of your throat and you stretch your aching limbs and push yourself into a sitting position. From her seat at your bedside, Genya discards her book with a gasp, tossing it away in favour of throwing her arms around you.

Somewhat disarmed by the hug, you look around at your surroundings, slowly recognising the bedroom you had been using at the Grand Palace.

“Genya? What happened?”

She pulls back, examining your face. There’s a tension in her features and a heaviness in her eyes. Genya is always meticulous in maintaining her appearance, but now she looks almost disheveled. Tears glimmer in her eyes as she brushes a lock of hair from your forehead.

“Ivan found you and the General in the woods. He said you had escaped a fire.”

“Ivan?” Ivan is alive. Deep down, you’re thrilled for Fedoyr, but at the moment you have more pressing concerns vying for your attention.

“You almost died.”

Her statement has concern for Aleksander mounting in your chest.

“Where’s the General?” Her expression drops slightly and your stomach twists fearfully as your fingers curl around her wrist. “Genya? Tell me, please.”

“He’s still alive. We’ve had heartrenders monitoring him constantly-” Instantly, you push the bedcovers aside and begin to climb off the mattress. “-and a durast keeping the merzost from reaching his heart.”

Genya settles her hands on your shoulders, attempting to keep you in bed.

“I need to see him.”

“Let me get a healer to see to you first.”

You shake your head.

“No. I need to see him, now.”

Dressed in a velvet robe, you stride through the corridors towards the royal chambers which Aleksander had claimed as his own. Genya hurries to keep up with you, despite the burning ache in your lungs. The fox skitters nervously at the forefront of your mind, scratching anxiously at the frantic thoughts of Aleksander.

Four oprichniki stand guard outside his rooms, opening the doors for you immediately so that you can rush into his bedroom unhindered. Ivan and Fedoyr stand at the foot of the bed, with David sitting at Aleksander’s bedside with a tense expression, his hands clasped together as he keeps the merzost from entering Aleksander’s heart.

Then your eyes fall upon Aleksander himself. The urge to cry like a helpless child chokes you. Moving towards him slowly, you can’t find the strength to breathe.

He’s sickeningly pale, cold to the touch as you reach for his face carefully. He doesn’t stir like he usually would, seeking out your touch subconsciously, and you experience the horrific thought that you might be too late.

His amplification still reaches for your power and nausea fills you at the feeling of strength that flows from his weakened body to yours. Closing your eyes as you sit by his side on the edge of the bed, you attempt to redirect the power, hoping to find some way of giving him enough to fight off the merzost.

The arteries in his neck are dark and thick with merzost, throbbing beneath his skin. There’s a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, his dark brows furrowed with pain. Clasping your hands together, you focus on the merzost in his body, gasping when you feel the vastness of dark poison tainting his blood. It makes your lungs tighten, the back of your head pounding with each weak beat of Aleksander’s heart.

Emotion closes your throat as you lean over Aleksander, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Gently, you smooth his hair back, threading your fingers lovingly through the matted locks. He’s still so motionless, and your hands shake as you trace your fingertips over his scars which have darkened considerably. Kissing his cheek, you whisper quietly against his ear,

“Hold on for me, Aleksander, please.”

Blinking back your tears, you straighten up, addressing the room,

“Bring me the sun summoner.”

Fedoyr nods, giving Ivan’s hand a squeeze before he moves towards the door to obey your order. There’s a large, jagged scar stretching across Ivan’s neck, directly over the apple of his throat, which you suspect is a token from his escape from the Fold. He – like Aleksander – is lucky to have survived the volcra.

“Thank you for saving us, Ivan.”

He nods in acknowledgement, his expression softening slightly as he observes you and Aleksander.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Genya asks you, wringing her hands lightly.

“Not entirely,” you admit, rolling up the soft sleeves of your robe. “But I have a few theories.”

It isn’t long before you hear footsteps in the corridor outside as Fedoyr returns with Alina in tow.

“Fedoyr, hold her still.”

“What’s happening?” Alina asks, eyes bouncing frantically over each person in the room. None of you look at her.

“Quiet,” Ivan says firmly.

“Ivan,” you say. “Only stop me if he is about to die – and only then.” He nods solemnly. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Closing your eyes, you tighten your hold on Alina’s wrist and take Aleksander’s hand in your own, creating a physical bridge between the two of them.

»»---------------------►

It takes a few moments for you to realise where you are. The Little Palace. The sun is low, descending over the horizon as you walk down the corridors. The increasing darkness doesn’t scare you, this place is your home. There is only one place you can think of finding Aleksander.

During your time living at the Little Palace, you never actually set foot in Aleksander’s rooms, as an ordinary durast, you were never considered important enough for an audience with the General of the Second Army.

Pushing open the door to Aleksander’s chambers, you walk towards the figure seated in the armchair by the fire.

“Aleksander,” you sigh, filled with relief. “I thought it would be so much harder to find you.” He doesn’t turn at the sound of your voice and your stomach sinks as the silence rings between you. Each step you take is tentative as you move towards the chair, eyes trained on the dark head of hair. “Sasha?”

The figure stands and your steps falter.

“Alina.”

She’s wearing a black kefta and you feel sick at the sight of her in Aleksander’s colour. She frowns at you.

“It’s you, from the Spinning Wheel. Who are you?”

You shake your head minutely.

“No one.”

“Kirigan isn’t who you think he is.”

“I know exactly who he is.”

She lifts a hand, summoning a ball of sunlight which dances around her fingers. Her light is cooler than when you first saw it at the winter fete.

“And you stand beside him – knowing what he’s done?” Her voice is hard with anger and you know there will be no reasoning with her. Straightening yourself, you nod.

“I do.”

Small sparks flutter around her, the power fighting to be released. Then you realise, she doesn’t have full control of her second amplifier, meaning she is so much more dangerous than you anticipated. Slowly, you begin to back away.

She brings her hands together, wielding the light into a bright blade and you turn tail, running for the door. It slams shut behind you and mere seconds later the Cut slices through the wood.

Splitters burst from the broken door as it shatters from the force of Alina’s Cut, but you don’t dare to look backwards as you continue running. Knowing the corridors of the Little Palace so intimately gives you an advantage that you are quick to make use of, leaving Alina behind in the wake of her destruction.

As you lean against a window frame, attempting to catch your breath, your eyes are drawn to a light outside. There’s someone in Baghra’s hut. Aleksander. Rushing towards a door that opens into the courtyard at the side of the palace, you freeze in the doorway, staring out over the grass.

The open ground between the palace and Baghra’s hut means you will be vulnerable from all angles. Without the speed or heightened senses of the fox, you have no way of knowing if it is safe for you to move.

After a moment of steeling your nerves, you push away from the door, running as fast as you can across the courtyard. As soon as you make it to the grass, hope begins to fill you that you might make it to Baghra’s hut undetected and unharmed.

Then, there’s a galloping sound of hooves against grass, dirt spraying upwards, and you stumble at the sight of a stag barrelling out of the woods towards you. Halting your sprint has you swaying backwards, knocked to the ground by the momentum as you scramble away from the stag.

He’s large, colossal antlers raised aggressively at you as he snorts a warning. His pale fur stands out against the darkness, almost glowing in the pale moonlight as he stamps the ground territorially, blocking your route to Aleksander.

Despite your hurried retreat, he continues to stalk towards you and fear prickles over your skin. There is no way you can outrun such a creature. Mud sticks to your hands as you crawl backwards, eyes fixed on the stag as he begins to pick up the pace again, charging towards you with his antlers lowered to impale you.

There’s a flash of red fur and a familiar protective snarl. The fox. He’s come to save you. He barks and growls at the stag, weaving between his legs.

Terrified for the creature that has been a part of you for the last few months, you hold your breath and watch anxiously as the fox snaps at the stag. He turns to look at you, amber eyes locked on yours as he tilts his head as if to say: what are you still doing here? Go get him.

Shakily, you stumble to your feet, running around the warring creatures towards the hut at the tree line. Aleksander is sitting by the fire when you throw open the door.

“Aleksander,” you gasp.

He stands, wide eyed, rushing towards you as you throw yourself into his arms. He catches you immediately, coiling himself around you tightly as you grip onto him.

“You’re alive,” he murmurs, breathing deeply as he nestles himself closer to you.

“You are too,” you whisper, before adding, “Barely, because you used merzost again.”

He shrugs lightly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“It was a small price to pay, to ensure you lived.”

“Aleksander. The only reason why I was able to create this tether is because you are frightfully close to joining the making at the heart of the world.”

“Is that what this is? A preliminary afterlife?”

You nod.

“I think so.”

His expression shatters, his knuckles stroking your cheek.

“You’re here to say goodbye.”

“You think I would let you go so easily?” He stares at you in confusion, and you lean forwards to press your forehead against his. “I’m here to save you.”

“How?”

“Merzost requires balance. The only solution I can think of is to reverse what happened in reality.” He frowns and you continue your explanation. “We get Alina to kill the stag, and I give you the antlers.”

“Kill the stag? What do you mean?”

“Look outside.”

Aleksander’s legs are shaky, and you need to keep your arm around his shoulders as he moves over towards the window. The fox and the stag are still fighting outside, their positions now reversed as the fox stands protectively at the entrance to Baghra’s hut.

“You certainly know how to pick an amplifier for someone,” you remark quietly with a wry laugh.

“He’s just as loyal as you,” Aleksander says in a soft murmur and heat warms in your chest.

Then you spot Alina approaching, her eyes fixed intently on the fox.

“I have to help him.”

“My love,” Aleksander says, curling his fingers around your wrist to prevent you from leaving. “Be careful, please.”

You nod, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his scarred cheek.

As you close the door behind you, Alina is tossing the Cut wildly in the direction of the fox. Instantly, you clasp your hands together, summoning your power to bend the stones and scraps of metal beneath the ground to create a makeshift shield for the fox. It shatters as soon as Alina’s light hits it, though it gives the fox the opportunity to escape. He scampers towards you, weaving between your legs.

“Are you alright?” you ask him. He nods, tilting his head back as you stroke your fingers through the fur beneath his chin.

Moving your attention over to Alina, you find her eyes bouncing between you and the fox – struggling to piece together how you hold such power over him. To get what you need to help Aleksander, you need to goad her into attacking the stag.

“You think Aleksander is the one mad for power, but you hadn’t even mastered your first amplifier before claiming another.”

She raises her chin at you.

“The stag chose me.”

“Did he?”

Doubt flickers over her face as she glances at the stag. He doesn’t seek her out like the fox does for you.

“The fox chose me. You’ve seen what we can do as one being.” Even in this tether space, where the two of you are physically separated, you and the fox are of one mind. He prowls at your ankles, keeping his eyes on Alina. “Claiming an amplifier is an exchange. They offer you their life, but you have to be the one to take it.”

She straightens herself, resolution in her eyes.

“Fine.”

Alina turns towards the stag, raising her hands slowly as her light shimmers around her. A shiver runs down your spine, and guilt settles in your stomach for a brief moment. Time seems to stand still, as a great blade of light shoots towards the stag. There’s a bright flash, as the light meets its mark and an earsplitting crack echoes through the air that makes your ears ring.

You don’t have to tell the fox your plan. As you sprint towards the unmoving body of the stag, the fox charges at Alina. The sound of them fighting makes you nervous, but you keep your focus on the task in front of you. Summoning a small Cut between your hands, you remove several pieces of the stag’s antlers, gathering together as much as you can carry before you stand and run back into Baghra’s hut.

In response to your arrival, Aleksander lowers himself onto the bed as you drag a chair over to the bedside with the antlers.

“Where do I need to put them?” you ask.

“Collarbones,” he states weakly.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt, you pull the fabric away as he loosens the buttons to reveal the top of his chest. As you settle the antler pieces over his collar bones with shaking hands, his fingers curl around your wrist.

“Are you sure about this?”

Shaking your head, you place your hand over his, squeezing it softly.

“Not at all.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of his lips, then he nods.

“Do your best.”

Weaving your two hands together, you reach for your power and begin to merge the antlers with his bones. Aleksander grits his teeth at the foreign sensation, and you feel lightheaded at such an exertion. Relief prickles over your skin as Aleksander’s body seems to begin accepting the antlers. Most of the material sinks into him, leaving only a few sharp edges poking out.

There’s a sudden pain bursting over your face, that has stars sparkling over your vision and the sound of the fox whimpering outside has you glancing at the window, distracted. At the thought of Alina Cutting the fox, or burning him with her light, anxiety blooms in your chest and you’re tempted to check on him.

The pattering of paws against dirt soothes some of your concerns, as the fox comes barrelling into the hut. He scrambles into your lap, pressing his face against your chest as he pants heavily. Aleksander strokes his hand limply over the body of the fox, threading his fingers absentmindedly through his fur as he blinks heavily, staring unfocused up at the ceiling.

“You’re okay,” you rasp, lowering your chin onto the fox’s head as your heart pounds wildly, hands shaking as you focus on sealing Aleksander’s skin over the antlers. “We’re okay.”

There are only a few stray notches of bone, healed gnarly beneath Aleksander’s skin. The amplified has accepted him. With your hands free, you grasp onto Aleksander and the fox, holding onto them both in relief. Sweat drips over you both as you press your forehead against Aleksander’s. He kisses you breathlessly, a proud smile on his face as he murmurs,

“Take us home.”

»»---------------------►

Indecipherable voices overlap one another. Your vision blurs. There’s an ache in your head, throbbing as you sway in your seat. It takes several seconds for you to realise where you are, perched on the edge of Aleksander’s bed. The people around you are blurry; only one of them brings your vision into focus. There’s a hoarseness to your throat as you whisper,

“Aleksander.”

He blinks at you, sitting up in his bed as you move towards him. He curls his arms tight around you, griping onto your body with every ounce of strength he possesses. He breathes deeply, and you begin to sob when you realise there’s no unsettling rattle from his lungs. There’s a healthy flush over his cheeks and the dark skeins of merzost are nowhere to be seen.

Aleksander rocks you back and forth, tears in his own eyes as he presses his face into your hair. His words are muffled, but they hold a familiar sense of command as he addresses the room,

“Thank you for your assistance, everyone. Leave us for a moment.”

They are all quiet as they leave the room and Aleksander pulls you back down under the covers, guiding you into his embrace. He strokes your hair, holding you close as you bury your face into his chest. He watches you blink tiredly, exhaustion making your limbs heavy as you cling to him.

“Sleep, my love,” he murmurs. “You’ve done so much for me.” Sleepily, you tighten your grip on him.

“You’re not going to die, are you?”

His lips brush against your forehead in a delicate kiss.

“Not today.”

»»---------------------►

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

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#keep your judgement au #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #the darkling fic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone au

121 notes · View notes

crvptidgf · 9 months

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭

general kirigan x fem!reader

summary: the darkling arrives to your room late in the night, right after the winter fete

warnings/notes: making out, very slight sexual content 18+, heavily inspired by what could’ve happened with alina and aleksander the night of the fete, book descriptions of the Darkling (?)

requested?: sort of @loversmantra

————————

You had been waiting in your room all night long. Aleksander had been long gone from the fete, and you soon followed as you jumped at the first chance to leave the Grand Palace. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your time - you really did. The performances were amazing, and you had been incredibly proud of Alina’s progress with her powers; you knew she could do it.

Yet the memory of being in the Queen’s sitting room, pushed up against the double doors as Aleksander’s hands inched up your thighs feverishly didn’t leave your mind the whole night. You clenched your thighs together for what felt like the millionth time that night. You desperately explained your excuse and bid your farewells to your friends before sneaking out of the Palace undetected.

“Can I visit you tonight?” he had asked. He looked around the corridor, holding the door open as he prepared to leave you, disheveled and needy in the Queen’s lounge area.

All you could muster was a nod, too embarrassed to speak under his intense gaze.

Now, you stood in your room with bated breath as you waited for his supposed arrival. Perhaps you were foolish for believing that he’d ever want you - need you.

But you wanted to believe. And so you did. As you waited, and waited, and waited, you began to lose hope. Of course it was too good to be true - maybe that was all you two were destined to be, a quick, silly make-out on the outskirts of a ravishing party.

You scolded yourself as you pulled off your skirts and slippers, unbuttoning your kefta and throwing them atop your dressing screen. Grabbing your white night gown, you fitted it over your head before making your way towards your bed.

Your mind wandered yet again as you reminisced on the night you just had.

His lips were pressed directly on your pulse - kissing, nipping, licking any inch of skin he could reach. Hands were pawing at your hips and waist, lifting your skirt to wrap one leg around his waist before he began massaging into you slowly, gently.

One hand kept you balanced against the door while the other roamed across your bare thigh, getting closer to where you needed him most.

Your collarbone was attacked by kisses as he dragged his teeth along the flesh, earning a satisfied gasp from you.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Voices could be heard down the hallway, footsteps getting tantalizingly close to the doorway you were currently pushed up against. Aleksander’s hand came to press against the door right next to your head.

You stalled your breathing, doing everything in your power to not lean into him, to not roll your hips against his.

You sighed as you wrapped your silk and fur covers around yourself, trying to subdue your disappointment. What did you honestly expect? He was The Darkling. He had things to do, and prettier girls fawning over him. Hell, he had the Sun Summoner at his fingertips.

Yet as you began to close your eyes to drift into an uneasy sleep, a low knock came at your door. It was so quiet that you almost thought you had imagined it.

Another knock sounded and you stuffed your feet into your fur lined slippers before walking to the door.

Unlocking it, you were immediately met with complete darkness, save for Aleksander’s icy eyes piercing through the blackness. He was here. Maybe you weren’t so stupid after all. His domineering aura made you shift in place as you stepped aside to let the leather clad man enter your room.

“You’re here,” you said blindly. What a stupid sentence. Of course he was here, he was unmistakably standing right in-front of you, his dark head of hair being ruffled by his hand as he ran his fingers through it.

“Did you ever doubt that I wouldn’t be?” he said as he raised an eyebrow at you.

Closing the door and locking it once again, you turned to face him. You wanted to lie, to cover up the fact that you were staying up all night waiting for him. Yet as you looked into his intense gray eyes, you just couldn’t.

“A little.”

He advanced towards you, and you suddenly felt very exposed in your night wear. His hand came to grab at yours, holding it tightly. A wave of confidence rushed through you, and you could practically feel your heart rate picking up times ten.

“I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly,” he said as his hand came to rest at the nape of your neck.

Stepping closer towards him, you responded. “You’re here now.”

And with that, you grabbed at his collar as you connected your lips to his, all the desperation from tonight melting into the kiss. Your patience was wearing thin, but knowing him, he wasn’t going to give in easily. Sasha had a knack for pushing people to the edge. His inhuman amount of patience annoyed you at times, but he always made it worth your time.

His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your nightgown, the back of your hair, everything. As his mouth hungrily chased down your neck, you were pushed against the door for the second time tonight.

Gently tugging his hair to unlatch him from the side of your neck, you pulled his lips back up to meet yours in a flurry mess of teeth and tongue clashing together.

You could feel his touch times ten now that you were rid of your kefta and extra outerwear. Everywhere he touched granted you a new set of goosebumps, and as his hand reached up to grasp at your hips, you leaned into him more. There was something so intoxicating about him.

This little midnight rendezvous filled you with excitement. Pulling away from you, he began to speak once again.

“It pained me to have to leave you in there alone, you know,” he muttered against your lips as he heaved you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist.

“Well then make it up to me.”

With your back pressed against the mattress, and his tall stature standing over you, you knew tonight would be a good night.

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