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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months

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hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

a/n: look, we already know that I'm a nerd when it comes to medical history, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise. only thing surprising about it is how fucking long it took for me to finally write this kinda fic, damn, because this fantasy is ancient.

summary: “miss, I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

warnings: doctor!aleksander morozova x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon, historical au, medical kink, time accurate sexism, fingering, sex toys (vibrator, fuck machine), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, size kink, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation

word count: 1607

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Eyes glued to the clipboard in his hand, doctor Morozova quietly read up from the list of symptoms he had just scribbled down, “…unmarried, insomnia, increased nervousness during social interactions… miss,” he then lifted his obsidian gaze and told you gravely, “I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

“I-I do?”

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry,” he laid the papers down on the desk before him, “seems like your womb is not where it’s supposed to be and that can cause all sorts of problems as you can see by your symptoms.”

Fingers weaved so tightly in the fabric in your lap it nearly broke through, ruining your dress, your panic began to bubble out, “what should I do, doctor? Is there a cure?”

“There is,” he nodded, subtly raising a hand up to soothe your nerves, “the way to relieve this disorder is by causing something called a hysterical paroxysm,” he informed, abruptly redirecting his stare down upon the woodgrain of the tabletop, “now, usually, if a woman is married, the husband is to perform the treatment, but since you’re not,” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “I’ll help rid your body of this ailment.”

“Really? Thank you,” you gasped, “what, uh, what does it entail?”

“Oh, it’s simple enough,” he waved a casual hand, “you just rid yourself of your undergarments and lay down on the exam table for me.”

“I-…” you blinked, eyes wide before you swallowed, “…alright…”

Getting up from the chair opposing his desk, you walked around the flimsy partition set up in the corner. Reaching under your dress, you timidly pulled your underwear down your legs, past your stockings and off. Folding the garment in a neat little bundle, you settled it on the small stool that stood back here before stepping back out from behind the cover.

Now settled at the bottom of the exam table on a seat, he gestured for you to get up onto the slab before you apprehensively did so.

“If you would please just put your feet up in these stirrups,” he adjusted the metal legs below you, “then we can get started.”

As you then shifted, settling your feet into place, your skirts tented and began to ride up, a gust of crisp air kissing your exposed centre and causing your cheeks to heat up.

Hearing his chair scoot closer, you then felt his touch softly ghost from your knees all the way up your thighs till his fingers were gently prying your petals apart. After taking a good look, he then briefly retracted his touch, unscrewing a nearby dark glass jar, swiping up some of the glossy contents before grazing through your folds once more, the cool temperature of the lubrication causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

“Sorry, if it’s a bit cold,” he murmured as he continued to smear it in.

Head faintly shaking, “it’s fine,” you tried just to focus on your breathing.

Pushing your dress a bit more out of the way, he told you, “just try and relax for me, it will go by a lot smoother if you relax,” his touch then suddenly changed, “now, tell me,” zeroing in and pressing down on your clit in a way that made the office around you go fuzzy, “how does that feel?”

Blinking down at him, you found that his vision was already firm on you, “I-… I don’t know… how is it supposed to feel?”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he rubbed a bit harder, “so, does it feel good?”

“I-I guess so,” your vision fluttered back up towards the ceiling, the doctor’s dark eyes being too much to stand, “yeah.”

“Good, good,” his attentive touch then shifted, “now let me just have a feel inside. Deep breath for me,” your lungs expanded at his command, “there you go,” and his long finger pressed inside, gently curving it around against your walls as he examined, “yep, there it is… your womb, it’s in the completely wrong spot,” he swiftly worked another digit in, watching as you stretched around his fingers, “it’s good that you came in now before it got even worse,” pulling back out, he ended the contact with an unnecessary rub against your buzzing clit.

As he then scooted a bulky and mysterious machine over, you asked nervously, “w-what is that?”

“Just a little apparatus that’s gonna help cure you,” he twisted a vaguely phallic shape into place at the end of the device’s long arm. After noticing your startled expression, you felt his warm hand sprawl across your thigh, “don’t worry, love. It’s all gonna be just fine,” lining it up, “just try and lay still,” he turned a switch and the attachment slowly drove into you.

“Oh my god!” your palm slammed down against the exam table.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he caught your eye till your body slowly began to give in, calming under his gaze. Reaching his right hand up, he tickled your puff as the gadget slowly eased in and out of you, “you’re doing great so far, just relax for me,” you saw his free fingers sneak down to enclose around the apparatus’s knob once more, turning the speed further up.

Feeling like you might fall off the table entirely, you panted, “doctor, I think something might be wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he nearly chuckled, “this is how it’s supposed to feel,” smiling as you let go an uncontainable moan, knees nearly closing as you tumbled over the edge, “there it is, good, good…”

Expecting for the machine to be shut off, the doctor instead pushed your trembling knees aside and conjured a bulky ward-like device that buzzed in his tight grip, the other hand firm on your leg as he pressed the vibrator against your sensitive pearl, “ah! Doctor! What are you-”

“We’re not done yet,” he stated firmly, vision fixated on the mess he was turning you into.

The squelching of your pussy cut through the loud buzzing of the gizmos, “but it’s too much, I can’t-”

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

Fists tight in your dress, crumbled at your waist, you let out a shaky, “yes.”

“Then quit your whining and let me treat you,” his stare snapped up as he warned you, “if you keep that up then I’ll have no other choice but to restrain you, is that what you want?”

“N-no,” the overwhelming sensation caused you to tremble like a leaf.

“Be a good girl and take it.”

When the second wave hit, it crashed into you so fiercely that you let out a lewd scream.

“There you go, that’s it!” the doctor bellowed as your pussy gushed, crying out around the intense toys, “oh, fuck…” unable to peel his eyes away as he finally turned off the machines, additional juices squirting out as they withdrew.

Limbs twitching, you hazily asked, “was that it? Are we done?”

Palming himself through his pants, his gaze stayed glued to your weeping core, “not quite yet, miss… that release of excess fluids was a very good sign, very good sign indeed, but we’re not quite done… there’s still more that needs to get out in order for your uterus to align itself again,” your eyes then flicked down to his fingers as they worked at the buttons on his slacks, swiftly freeing something much bigger than the apparatus he had just fucked you with.

“Doctor?” your eyes grew as he stepped closer, rubbing his tip against you in a way that made your eyes flutter.

Finally meeting your gaze, he uttered, “please, call me Aleksander,” before thrusting his hips forward, stretching you apart with his cock. Fingers digging into your thighs, he glanced back down and smirked, “I think your womb just needs a little reminder of where its home is,” before he slammed in, all the way, pushing the air out of your lungs as his balls nuzzled against you.

“Ah!”

“Just need to knock at its door a bit to call it home,” the tip of his generous length kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, borderline going too deep as you clambered around him, “that’s it, taking the treatment so well.”

Just as you had thought he had settled on a rhythm, he pulled the rug out from under you by suddenly withdrawing his girth entirely, spreading you apart so that he could watch how he made you gape, only to bury himself completely once again, repeating the cycle over and over, relishing in the way it drove you up the wall.

“Fucking hell… I can feel it, you’re getting close, clamping around me like a desperate little whore,” he groaned, watching as after a few more breath-taking rounds, your pussy began to weep once again, “oh, there it is,” squirting out every time he retraced himself, “atta girl,” the fullness he then granted you only persuaded more to appear.

When you were nothing more than a literal puddle in his grasp, Aleksander truly lost control, pounding into your trembling mess before he made it even more so, stuffing you full of his hot cum.

Low groans still flowed from his lips as he retracted from you for good, the sensation of his seed trickling out of you and onto the exam table nearly going unnoticed from how exhausted the treatment had made you.

“Was that it?” you asked weakly, “am I cured now?”

Tugging himself away as he caught his breath, he answered, “not completely,” glancing back up at you with a glint in his dark eyes, “I think you’re gonna have to come back a few more times …”

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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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angelaestheticbaby · 7 months

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The bunny and the wolf

Summary: Aleksander hates everyone except you. You could stay forever.

Warnings: I guess none, just fluff

A/N: it was inspired by this pic

Aleksander was always like a big, bad wolf. Snurling and growling at people who wanted to get close. He pushed everyone away and never let anyone near.

But when he attemped to scare away you, you just beamed at him like a literal sunshine and he immediatly fell in love.

You were like the innocent little Bunny and he was the big, bad wolf. You softened his heart and since then he was soft and gentle with you, hars and cold with everyone else. You were his Bunny and the sight of you made him melt.

Aleksander had been quite cold and stoic when you first met him. He always kept everyone at an arm's length distance, never really letting anyone close.

But it was you who finally broke that cold armour he had around himself. He soon became like a big, protective bear towards you. You were the light that brought out his softer side and made him melt.

No one else had ever seen him that way, they all feared him and his stern demeanour. But to you, he was like a gentle lamb, willing to do anything for you.

"Hi baby" you stepped into his office and hugged him from behind. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. He set his pen down on the desk and put his glass aside. He turned in your hold and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"Hello, my Bunny" Aleks whispered.

"How's it going? You seemed stressed this moring when you left our bed" you nuzzled closer and he literally saw you as a little Bunny feeling comfortable.

"I'm better now" he said with a smile as he leanes down and whispers into your ear, "My Bunny is here with me."

He nuzzled your ear with his lips and ran his hands through your hair. "You have no idea how much I missed you today."

"I missed you too lovely"

Lovely. You called him lovely, when he was anything but lovely. His heart skipped a beat. He was so used to being feared and respected, he had never been called something so sweet yet intimate before, but it just felt right.

"I have some good news for you, Bunny" he whispers softly.

"Yeaahh? Tell me" you whispered sweetly. He didn't understand how someone so precious like you could be with someone cursed and bad like him. But you were there and he didn't plan on letting you go.

"I want to hold you in my arms forever" he says softly as he ran his fingers through your hair. He pulled you close, bringing his lips to your ear. "I want to spend my life with you, my Bunny. I will be yours, my love" he said in a passionate whisper.

He stared deeply into your eyes as he held your face in his hands, "I would die for you."

"I love you Aleks" you beamed at him. Your softness made an effect on him like nothing else. You didn't guite catch on that he was proposing to you, but he was willing to try again.

He smiled warmly as he held you close. "I love you too, my Bunny."

He looked you deeply in the eyes as he cupped your face in his hands. He stared at you for a long moment before he whispered softly, "I want to marry you. Will you be my wife?"

Aleks was the type of person everyone feared, but with you he was soft and gentle. You have tamed the big, bad wolf.

You froze a bit then your knees buckled a little and started crying in joy.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes" you hugged him closer and started kissing his face everywhere you could reach.

He kissed you passionately as he held you tightly in his arms. He was never the type of person to show much emotion, but with you, he was like a completely different person.

"I love you so much. You're the person I want to spend my life with. I knew you were the one right from the first moment we met"

He nuzzles at your neck with his lips again, "I can't wait to be with you forever"

#aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling fanfic #ben barnes #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes x reader #the darkling fluff

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padfootagain · 6 months

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Hold My Hand Instead of His

Hello everyone!! We're answering a request for my event today!

Here is the first request coming from two anons, actually, who have requested the same tropes: “Hiya! Can I request The Darkling Soulmate AU with an arranged marriage trope? But the reader is meant to get married to someone else? Can have a little bit of jealousy if you wish. Either that or enemies to lovers you choose” and “Hi carooole!!! Congrats for 6k!! I'm so happy when I see you on my TL again i've been following you since 2020 aaaa

I would like to request The Darkling, Soulmates AU and Arranged Marriage please !🫶

I hope you're having a good day and congratulations again <3”

I love this idea of an arranged marriage with someone else ifoeofueuojeji that’s amazing. I hope you like what I’ve written for your request, anon! <3

Hope you all like this. Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff; I’m distorting canon rules of Grisha magic to apply to a Soulmate AU I hope you like it

Summary: You are engaged to the Prince of Ravka, through an arranged marriage, in order to pacify relations between Grisha and otkazat’sya. The issue: Nikolai Lantsov is not your soulmate, and you are torn between duty and love.

Word Count: 3554

The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

What could happen if the world were to be devoured by shadows?

Sometimes, as you laid down at night, staring at the shining stars and moon, you asked yourself this question. Would it be the end? The beginning? The continuation? Would anything change?

You felt a little too lost in your life these days to be afraid of the shadows, of the blindness they carried. If you were so lost, weren’t you alone already?

Besides, these were his shadows. If anyone else could fear the dark because it was his, you felt the opposite.

Your gaze turned from the window to the door on the opposite wall. Why were you chosen to marry the prince anyway? Granted, you were a powerful Grisha, but there were others who could have done it, why did it have to be you?

You knew that Nikolai Lantsov was not your soulmate. There was no wonder about it. As a Grisha, your soulmate would be easy to detect: a simple touch and your powers would be amplified. A surge of power matching the rush of a heart. You had touched the prince before, had felt nothing. It wasn’t him…

Actually, you knew who was your soulmate. You had touched him once, without meaning to. While he was asleep, after a long day spent on a battlefield. You can see it all over again: the dry blood still tainting his forehead, the quiet of his breathing, the calmness on his features. He seemed so innocent then, so different from the man who had used his shadows against the world mere hours before. You remember as well the water you had been carrying to his tent, the reason for your presence in the first place. Because of course, you were a powerful Grisha, but he was The Darkling, a general, a leader, unreachable. You remember, though, the light shiver that shook his frame, the blanket that had fallen from his chest during his sleep. To this day, you didn’t know what had come over you that night, putting down your bucket of cold water, gently holding the blanket to cover his long frame once more. And it was an accident, really, a mere miscalculation of trajectory, when you brushed your fingers against his. And you remember the surge of power shaking your entire frame, making it hard to breathe, igniting every cell in your body. The sudden knowledge of your powers beating in your muscles at the same rhythm as your heartbeat. It was so strong, you could barely control your powers enough to not burn him, feeling flames surging to your hands. You were certain that the warmth escaping through every inch of your skin was warming the entire room. It felt like you could have burned the entire world…

It had taken you a long time to finally accept the truth that was revealed that night: the Darkling was your soulmate. Amplifying abilities could only happen between people bound by true love and fate alike, and that cold night spent on the verge of Fjerda, you had revealed an unbelieving truth. The Darkling was your soulmate. Your one true love.

Even now, you contemplated this fact with a tinge of bitterness. He was the Darkling, and you… it would be absolutely impossible for the two of you to be together. Now more than ever. You had been chosen to marry the prince of Ravka, it would strengthen the Grisha, protect them… you had worked hard to protect your people, you couldn’t abandon them simply because you were being a silly romantic. This wasn’t about love. This was about duty and the need of your people. Besides, it could have been worse. Nikolai wasn’t a bad man, marrying his brother would have been much closer to martyrdom.

These were the words you repeated yourself over and over again, every night since the announcement. And they were sensible and logical, but they did not prevent the aching in your chest, the tears at the corners of your eyes, or the urge to run across the Little Palace to the Darkling’s War Room to tell him the truth and beg him to take you away…

You closed your eyes, the world even darker than before. Against your eyelids, you painted his tall frame wrapped in his shadows, the dark of his infinite eyes, the sot beard on his cheeks. It was useless though, and terribly childish.

After all, how could the Darkling do anything against your union with Nikolai Lantsov? He didn’t even know you were his soulmate…

You didn’t know that he was your soulmate, and it was slowly killing him.

The Darkling looked at you now, dressed in the finest silk the kingdom of Ravka could offer. Your hand resting on Nikolai Lantsov’s arm, gloved in white fabric. He was showing you off, the bastard. He was playing his part in this political plot a little too well, took too much pleasure in parading with you by his side. And you were so unlike your true self. Too pliant, too obedient, smiling too politely. But Aleksander knew who you could be, this other side of you. The one covered with blood, the one burning like the flames ignited by your fingers and palms.

The Darkling was being ridiculous, and he knew it. He had worked too hard to reach this position, over the long hours of centuries, he had crafted his myth, his image, his power, his influence. And Nikolai Lantsov marrying a Grisha was a central part of his plot, it was vital, actually. It was a new step towards the throne…

But you… why did it have to be you?

He was being ridiculous, and he knew it. He had abandoned the idea of an everlasting love such a long time ago. Centuries ago. He had built an armour around his heart, he had grown as ruthless as his shadows, he had grown too determined to be drawn off-course by sentiments.

And yet, as he looked at you now, at the way you leaned against another man, he wanted to destroy the entirety of Ravka and the world beyond too, if need be. He wanted to tear the fabrics of the universe apart, and scream against the night sky.

The Darkling was selfish, and he knew it. And yet, his selfishness was always directed towards the same goal he had been pursuing for centuries, for lifetimes… he could not simply yield now. Of course he wanted you, you were connected by a power stronger than the Small Science he used as weapons and shields. Still… still he couldn’t simply yield, it would ruin everything.

Aleksander remembers, though. He remembers that afternoon, the clouds of smoke rising from the broken earth, the screams, the irony taste of blood in the air. He remembers looking for you, though he didn’t know why his instinct made him look for your frame across the battlefield. And yet, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to find you. He remembers the beating of his heart and his shallow breathing, the pain of his own wounds making his head spin. He remembers catching the colour of your hair there, lying in the dirt, his gaze moving to your closed eyelids… He remembers the sudden fear that shook him, even though he didn’t know why he felt that way. Because you were, of course, a powerful Inferni, he suspected that you were unusually gifted, and yet… you were just a soldier. Why was he so upset? He had seen thousands of people dying, thousands of his soldiers falling… why was it so different now? He remembers the way he had stumbled as he rushed to your side, falling by your side more than kneeling. Your still frame, your peaceful expression, you looked like you were merely asleep. He remembers too well the slow movement of his own fingers towards your throat, pressing against your pulse to feel your heart, and the surge of power that coursed through his frame, ignited his blood, sparkling every cell of his body. Such an overcoming beating of power in his heart, he didn’t control the shadows that sprang from his frame, that gathered from all around the two of you to cover both of your frames. He didn’t control it. He knew at once what it meant though. And his shadows pulsed, at the same rhythm as his own heart and, as he noticed your pulse, as your heart as well.

Two hearts. One heartbeat. Soulmates…

Aleksander looked away, focusing his dark eyes on the drink in his hands instead of your frame. This surge of power he had felt, unbearable, uncontrollable, too wild to be tamed… he knew what it meant, of course. When he was young, and naïve, and stupid, he had spent long decades looking for it. The reason of his failure then was obvious now. You did not exist yet, you were born centuries apart… how cruel the world could be, making him wait for so long, only to snatch you away…

The Darkling was being ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. For longing for you so much it hurt, for seriously considering walking over to you and lie about a need to see you alone, and kiss you in the safety of his shadows, with your back pressed against a wall and your skin under his palms…

But was he so ridiculous? He couldn’t help it, after all. If fate itself had weaved your two lives, your two souls together, how could he simply ignore it?

He could have laughed at himself for being naïve all over again, a boy who longed for a fairer world. Fairness didn’t exist, it wasn’t in human nature. Marriages had little to do with love at all when they involved the royal family. It was about politics, not sentiments.

But then, why did Aleksander felt your numb body in his arms all over again, the weight of your unconsciousness resting on his forearms as he carried you to safety that afternoon, the shallow warmth of your breath against his neck, as you turned to him and looked at him from across the crowd, catching his gaze with ease?

But then, why did he want nothing but to leave everything behind now, everything he had worked so hard on and had lost so much of his own self to reach, at the mere hope of running away with you?

But you didn’t know he was your soulmate. You were unconscious then, when he had touched your skin, you couldn’t feel the amplification held in his bones for you.

He turned around, his back to you now to relieve the temptation to stare at you for too long. The Darkling was patient, but Aleksander was selfish. Would he hold on, or tell you the truth?

The answer came with the breeze of spring and a kiss stolen by the lake.

It came from you, actually. From the feeling of warm lips against yours, and hands on your cheeks, and the sudden knowledge of a truth you had been pushing away out of duty.

You couldn’t do this.

You pulled away quickly, leaving a rather stunned Nikolai Lantsov behind. You didn’t look at him as you spun on your heels, as you ran away across the grass and towards the Little Palace. You didn’t look back as you spotted the Darkling there, under the trees, speaking with Ivan. You were crying, you realised it only because it made their frame a little blur. Still, you aimed straight for the Darkling, who frowned at the sight of you. He dismissed Ivan with a mere gesture of the hand, and walked towards you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You wanted to rush into his arms, but didn’t dare to. Because he didn’t know you were his soulmate, and would notice if you touched his skin…

You were surprised when he held your upper-arm to steady you, though. But he was touching the fabric of your dress, you couldn’t feel the bond between the two of you…

“Y/N, what happened?”

You took a couple of deep breaths. You were being utterly ridiculous. You had fought battles, had killed people, had buried friends… this was a mere kiss, why did it upset you so much?

When you looked up at the Darkling, his expression was unreadable, a perfectly calm demeanour. There was but the ghost of a frown to show that he cared.

Did he care though? He didn’t know…

You couldn’t hold it back any longer. You had to tell him. Because he would probably push you away anyway, remind you of your duty towards Ravka, towards your fellow Grisha, and break your heart for good. And then, perhaps you could accept your arranged marriage with the prince…

“I can’t do it,” you let out in a breath, shaking your head. “I am sorry, but I cannot do it. I can’t marry Lantsov.”

The Darkling’s frown deepened, he leaned a little closer, his eyes searching yours, digging their way into your mind and heart until he could peer right into your soul.

“Did he hurt you? What happened?”

“He didn’t hurt me, he…”

You took a shaky breath, closed your eyes tightly for a moment, trying to release the words and hold back a sob.

“He kissed me.”

When you opened your eyes again, fell back into the gaze as dark as the shadows they summoned, you couldn’t read through them. Aleksander had clenched his jaw, but he was still as unreadable as ever.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do it… I can’t marry him…”

“Y/N, calm down. This is important.”

“I have a soulmate.”

His lips parted slightly, but he remained silent, frozen in expectation. His hold on your arm tightened, it was the only movement he made until you spoke again.

You wondered where your strength came from as you finally confessed the truth, you didn’t think you had it in you. Even if your voice was but a weak whisper, the words were let out, audible and clear, lifting a heavy weight from your shoulders and heart.

“It’s you. You’re my soulmate.”

You shook your head, eyes begging for forgiveness, even if none of this was your fault in the first place.

“I’m sorry. I… one day I touched you without meaning to while you slept, just… just your finger and… I felt it. The amplifying. And I… I didn’t tell you, because I know that you are focused on your task concerning Ravka, that this is not your priority, that you probably don’t even care but… You’re my soulmate. And I can’t marry another man, I simply can’t. I’ll fight as hard as I can, I’ll risk my life, I’ll kill and do whatever needs to be done, but as a soldier. Please… please, help me. Help me not marry him. I cannot marry someone else when I love you so deeply. I am not asking for anything else, I simply…”

Your voice died down as his hold on your kefta tightened, becoming almost painful, the hold unforgiving.

His stare was even more intense now, if that was even possible. You read hesitation in them, something you had never seen before on him…

His eyes fell from your gaze to your mouth, intense and holding you hostage, making your heart jump and crash against your ribcage. When his eyes flickered back to rest on yours, he was out of breath as he spoke.

“I know.”

You could only stare at him, stunned. You could feel your heart shattering…

“Do you remember when you were wounded in the South? About a year ago?”

Slowly, you nodded.

“I am the one who found you, unconscious, lying among the dead. I checked your pulse.”

“Oh…”

The ghost of an amused smile tugged at his lips.

“’Oh’, indeed.”

Slowly, you nodded. Because he knew, and yet he had done nothing to prevent this marriage.

“I thought you didn’t know,” he went on. “I thought it was better that way.”

“Because I must marry Nikolai to help the Grisha?”

But he was too earnest in his answer, his hand slowly rising to your cheek, but he didn’t touch you. Instead, he let his hand hover over your face, close enough to feel the heat of your skin, but still away, unbearably so.

“Because I do not want to have weaknesses. And loving you would turn you into a weakness.”

Again, you nodded, although you were more lost than ever.

“I can’t marry Nikolai,” you breathed again, the tears coming back into your eyes.

“If you do not, Ravka will be endangered, and Grisha more than anyone else.”

You looked down at your feet, the weight of duty too heavy on your shoulders now, despite the strength in them, the endurance of a soldier.

Aleksander could not bear the sight. Beyond duty, your frame was crushed by another burden he knew only too well, after carrying it for so many centuries.

Loneliness…

If he caved in, you would never have to be alone again, and neither would he…

Slowly, he closed the space between your two skins, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, guiding gently your face upward to look at him again. And the power that coursed through your bodies now was so intense, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t help the flames that sparked in the air all around you, and he couldn’t master the shadows that twirled around your frames. Fire and darkness mingled in a whirlwind that covered the world, made you escape from it. It was a strange dance on your features, the burning lights of flames dancing with his shadows in your eyes…

The decision was easy to make.

He leaned down before you could move, or speak, or master your powers again. Only when his lips moved over yours, when you lost yourself in his touch, when he melted under your palms and pressed himself against you, did your powers calm down. You felt the warmth of the sun against your face instead of the heat of flames, the constant light of the distant star painting your eyelids red instead of the unsteady black of his twirling shadows. And there was no thought left to be thought, no breath to be drawn, no duty to cave under. Instead, there was the passion of Aleksander’s kiss, the gentle tug of your fingers on his hair, the tingle of his beard against your soft skin. There was nothing in the world but the two of you, feelings overwhelming, and at the back of your mind, still, the knowledge of immense power waiting to be freed.

When you broke apart, both of you out of breath, Aleksander pulled away just enough to look at you again, to capture your gaze with his, making your heart stutter all over again.

“Do not marry him.”

You stopped breathing altogether as the words passed his lips. He slowly shook his head. His hold on your face tightened a little, he moved a little closer, and his voice was dangerously tempting, almost begging, when he spoke again.

“I can take care of this,” he assured you, his tone sounding like a promise. “I can make him back down. We are soulmates, this is our right…”

“But what about Grisha…”

“Lantsov can marry someone else. He chose you because he had a crush on you, he will get over it and choose someone else.”

“Do you really mean that?”

He smiled.

“We are soulmates. Do you not know the answer already?”

And as you stared at him for a little longer, you did. You knew he meant it. You could see it in his dark eyes, in the tension of his jaw, feel it in the way he held you a little too tight, a little too close, a tinge of desperation searing cracks through his perfect composure.

One of his hands let go of you, and he offered it, palm up and open, an offering of weakness and vulnerability.

“Choose me,” he demanded in a breathy whisper. “I’ll manage Lantsov, I’ll get you out of this marriage. We could be together. We can fight. Choose me. Hold my hand instead of his. Share your heart with me, not with him. Y/N…”

He fell silent as you took his hand, as you pulled him down to kiss him again, passionate and breathtaking.

He smiled into the kiss, he couldn’t help it. Because of your lips against his, because of the love you shared, because of the relief coursing through his entire frame after finally surrendering to the feelings he had held back for months, because of the shushing of its constant loneliness under your palms, because of the power you released into his body by a simple caress…

Aleksander was selfish, after all, and he would have you, if you chose him. He would do without this alliance with the Lantsov family. He didn’t need it. Instead of political leverage, you were now offering a power of his own.

He broke the kiss, held you close to him, rested his lips against your hair. Yes, he would have you. And if need be, he’d take the light out of this entire world, while you burned it to the ground.

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #the darkling x y/n #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling fanfic #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #aleksander x reader #aleksander x y/n #aleksander x you #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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thebigsl33p · 4 months

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Last Words of A Shooting Star AU ideas

Aleksander Morozova X Fem!Star!Reader

Like, this has been sitting in my head for so long but anytime i try to put it on paper it comes out shite, but I need to share it so...

Stardust AU! where the reader falls to Earth when Aleksander is a teen, they have a little romance yadayada, but the reader clearly isn't quite human. So when he creates The Fold and she gets lost inside it, he's all crying mourning ahhh angst for three hundred years.

And one day, there's reports of a light from The Fold. Distant, mild, but definitely a light.

And he's like ahhh what the fuck, sends out one of them little ship things to investigate and like ppl die but the surviving crew is just 'oh shit, there's a sparkly woman' and they take her back to the camp, and the little palace and bros just flabbergasted but also very in love.

And like, it takes a while for both of them to recognise each other, this tall intimidating General, so different from her Sasha, and this scrawny, damaged woman with a familiar sparkle, so different from his zvezda but like oh shit that's her.

and then sweet little renuion ahhhhhh

ah what the hell I'm gonna write it

Edit: I am currently writing it okayyyy yipeee it's gonna have four parts, which is...uh...well, I've never done a miniseries before.

ITS UP

#aleksander morozova #Aleksander morozova X reader #general kirigan X reader #aleksander X reader #the darkling X reader #darkling X reader #stardust au #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone X reader #kirigan x reader

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cammys-imagines24 · 1 year

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• Being in a Relationship with the Darkling •

Make no mistake, Aleksander Morozova is a toxic King.

But that does make you his Queen, so...

He will wage wars for you, lay waste to whole kingdoms, sever the heads of King's and Queen's with their own crowns... he would plunge the entire world in darkness just to keep you safe.

You are his equal. Forever protected by his devotion and shadows.

To say the Darkling would ever be completely truthful with you would be a lie as he has mastered the art of deceiving people for hundreds upon hundreds of years.

He has no shame in telling you little white lies to ensure your safety and utmost comfort. And should you bring up his little deceptions, he will brush it off and merely say that it is for your own benefit.

Though he will tell you all about his past. For you he is an open book and he will reveal his plans to you. You are his greatest confidant and he always smiles whenever you assist him or offer your own insight.

Aleksander has no shame in asking your friends and family about what your favorite flowers, food and things to do are. He will make it so that he knows you like the back of his hand and he will go to great lengths to learn everything there is to know about you.

So that when he offers you a bouquet of your preferred flowers or takes you on an outing to your activity of choice, you will smile and he will do anything to make you smile.

He is very possessive and will not allow you to go anywhere unescorted. Whether it be by his favored guards or even his own shadow creatures, the Nichevo'ya, you are always enshrouded by him.

And whenever you happen to wear his color, black, you will notice the evident smirk upon his face at the sight. He likes knowing that just by looking at you, others can tell who you belong to.

You are, as previously mentioned, his Queen. His partner. The one he's chosen to let into his very scarred and complicated heart.

And so forevermore, as long as breath resides in his ancient lungs, you will want for nothing.

Your every wish shall be granted. Your every fear shall be erased. Your every desire shall be fulfilled.

Attentive. Seductive. All encompassing. You will feel his love for you as if it were a brand upon your skin.

#shadow and bone #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagines #the darkling imagine #the darkling headcanons #the darkling headcanon #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagines #aleksander morozova headcanons #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfic

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crvptidgf · 9 months

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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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cookies-and-music · 4 months

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The Scam of a Lifetime.

Aleksander was tired.

Centuries of feigned deaths and new identities had worn him down.

Every day, upon waking, his mind chose a reason why existence was no longer bearable, and he spent the day brooding over it.

That day, it was about the King. Each time the king died, Aleksander had to gain the trust of the new one, prove his worth, and bow to people he could crush with a fingertip.

It had to end.

And it would end with her.

He approached her after the show. In centuries, Aleksander had seen many good actors, but none as skilled as the girl before him. Anya was young, around 16, with brown hair and light eyes. The only thing special about her was the uncanny resemblance to the Queen. It seemed that fate had spared him.

'Let's see if I understand, General Krignan.'

'Kirigan,' he corrected.

'Kirigan,' she echoed. 'Are you telling me that there existed a second daughter of the tsars, unknown to anyone, who disappeared right after birth, and the king is looking for her?'

'Correct.'

'It seems crazy,' she crossed her arms, leaning on the back of the chair. 'But then, why is he looking for her, after all these years?'

'He is very ill,' Aleksander began.

'The tsar is dying?' the girl widened her eyes.

'Remember that everything we say is confidential, Miss Anya,' he said with a slight undertone of threat, and she nodded. 'The tsar claims that the disappearance of the second daughter is his greatest regret, and he cannot die peacefully until he finds her.'

She seemed to reflect on it for a while; Aleksander could see the gears in her brain turning. When she finished, she raised an eyebrow. 'So, I should go there, give him the farewell kiss, and then what?'

'Then you would retire to the quiet life you know and prefer, in a villa located in the countryside far from Os Alta, with more money than you can count, never worring about working ever again.'

Anya sensed it, the smell of bullshit. 'And what do you gain?'

'A peaceful passing for my beloved sovereign.'

The coldness with which he said it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

She took a second to think about it, but even if she knew he would gain something, Anya thought she didn't care much, as long as she came out of it alive. And rich. Terribly rich.

[][][]

During the carriage journey to Os Alta, Kirigan instructed Anya on everything she could say and, above all, what she shouldn't say. The lost princess Katarina had grown up in an orphanage on the border of Shu territory, never knowing who her parents were. When she was old enough to leave, she became a seamstress. They met in a shop where she worked and sold him gloves.

'But I don't know how to sew,' Anya had objected.

'You'll learn along the way,' Kirigan had replied without looking up from his lunch.

Anya had raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

Apart from that, the journey was mostly silent and terribly boring. The black carriage they traveled in had dark curtains that prevented them from seeing outside, making it difficult to distinguish morning from evening.

For three days, the General was her only company, as he had forbidden her to talk to anyone else to maintain secrecy.

Just beyond the gates of Os Alta, the terrible silence surrounding the carriage was broken by the chaos from outside. Intrigued by the commotion, Anya reached a hand toward the curtain and pulled it slightly.

Outside, an adoring crowd had gathered around the carriage. They threw flowers and shouted, 'Glory to the tsar, glory to Ravka.'

'I didn't know you were so loved, General,' Anya turned to Kirigan, who, with his dark and heavy clothes and long legs, seemed to take up all the space in front of her.

Kirigan moved a flap of the curtain with a finger.

'They're not cheering for me, Miss Anya.'

The girl looked confused, and he handed her a newspaper he had next to him.

'What am I supposed to do with this?' Anya waved it.

'Usually, people read newspapers, Miss Anya.'

She clenched her jaw, swallowing. 'The. P- Prin-cess. Princess.'

Aleksander furrowed his brow. 'Miss Anya... you can read, right?'

'Of course!' Anya seemed almost offended. 'I just don't like it that much.'

Aleksander almost laughed as he watched her straighten up and furrow her brows as if facing an indecipherable puzzle. 'The princess re-tu-returns ho-me.' Anya tossed the newspaper on the cushion beside her. 'I don't understand,' she sighed, looking at Kirigan.

‘They’re here for you, Princess Katarina.' He gave her a half-smile, and Anya's jaw dropped.

'I had never received applause before the performance.'

Aleksander almost laughed.

Around an hour later, the carriage stopped.

'Well, Miss Anya, the show is about to begin.' Aleksander opened a door and stepped out before reaching his hand inside to help Anya get down. As her eyes adjusted to the outside light, Aleksander took her arm and crossed it with his. For a moment, Anya was surprised by such chivalry until she realized that the proximity was necessary only to ensure that no one heard him when he whispered, 'And know that if you back out, no corner will be dark enough to hide you from me, Miss Anya.'

#fanfic #aleksander morozova x oc #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #the darkling x oc #the darkling #shadow and bone #grishaverse

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mistiell · 1 year

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Strange Love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Healer! Reader

Summary: You run a secret clinic out of your home in the woods that surround Duva, meant mostly for Grisha fleeing Ravka. Your house has become a sort of safe house, one that very few know the location of. You’ve helped dozens of families flee the country over the years, but when the Black General find out what you’re up to, you find yourself in a very... unusual situation.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, brief mention of blood, Darkling might be a tiny bit ooc but idrk, sort of one sided enemies to lovers

A/N: I’m planning to make this a series, but I can’t promise regular updates bc I am shit at committing to literally anything lmao. It also depends on how y’all like this concept, so feedback would be very much appreciated!

Word Count: 2.7k

Current > Part 2

You’ve always tried to be an empathetic person.

Your mother, a healer like yourself, had taught you from an early age that every living thing deserves kindness, even when it might not seem that way. She ran a clinic out of your home, though for some odd reason, she forbid you from telling anyone about it. It confused you when you were young — wouldn’t telling people about it help her business grow? — but as you got older, you grew to understand what it was she really did.

It wasn’t a business at all. She had turned your home into a safe place for those who were fleeing the war. It was mostly families with grisha in the family that were either too young, too old, or too sick to fight. She was always so kind, so willing to help. When she passed, you vowed to do the same.

You converted the attic into a spare bedroom, a decent double bed against one wall and a couple of spare cots tucked against the other. You even added a small bookshelf with a handful of titles to make it seem a little more homey. You started offering the families that came to you later in the evening a safe place to rest before continuing on their journey towards the Fold. You aren’t sure how many actually make it through, but you don’t like to dwell on it much.

You’re restocking the pantry when there’s an urgent knock on your door, something you’ve grown used to over the years. You quickly make your way to the door and when you open it, you’re met with three worn looking faces.

“Are you Y/n?” The man asks, sounding just as tired as he looks. He’s got a cut on his forehead and dirt smeared over the right side of his face.

“Who sent you?” You ask calmly. You have a friend at the inn in town who keeps a look out for people who may need your help. You always ask to make sure it was her who sent them.

“Klara.” He replies. You smile and step out of the way to let them inside.

You come to find the man’s name is Rolan, the two travelling with him are his wife and daughter, Nika and Zarya.

“Where are you three headed?” You ask, gently wiping away the dirt around Rolan’s wound.

“Kerch, hopefully.” Nika states, watching you work carefully, “We aren’t keen on staying in Ravka.”

“Nika.” Her husband’s tone is one of warning, one that says ‘change the subject or stop talking’.

“It’s alright.” You assure, setting the now dirtied cloth in the bowl and turn to them with a smile that puts them at ease, “Whatever you say here stays within these walls.”

“I’m grisha.” Zarya blurts, voice small and shaky. The girl can’t be more than thirteen. You see the tears welling up in her eyes and your heart breaks a little for her. Based on how guilty she looks, you deduce that her parents aren’t.

“What kind?” You ask carefully.

“A healer.” She states, trying to wipe away her tears discreetly while her mother pulls her into a side hug.

“That’s one of the best to be.” You smile at her, setting about using your small science to heal her father’s head wound. Your answer would have been the same no matter what she said, but her being a healer makes consoling her a bit easier, “You have the power to help people. Just like this,” You glance over at her to see her watching you with fascination, “See? Not so scary.”

She smiles at you and you smile back.

Once you’re sure they’re all healed, you offer them something to eat and drink. Just as they finish, someone bangs on the door. It startles you all. You’re quick to reassure them that everything’s alright, but you really aren’t sure yourself. You make your way out of the small dining room and towards the front door. Standing behind it and listening through the wood, you pick up four heartbeats.

“Open up! We know you’re in there!” Your blood runs cold as the person pounds on the door again.

You rush back to the dining room, startling the family when you appear in the doorway, “You need to leave. Grab your things.”

“What? I don’t understa—.”

“There’s no time! Grab your bags!” You whisper yell and they scramble up from the table. You help them collect their belongings in record timing before ushering them towards the back door, “Listen to me carefully. When you leave, you cannot come back here. There’s a trail about a mile west of here that will take you back to the village. Go straight to the inn and tell Klara I sent you. She’ll let you stay for the night but you need to be gone as soon as possible, alright?”

“Alright.” Rolan nods, turning to leave with his family before adding, “Thank you. Truly.”

You nod and rush back to the front door once they’ve left. You pull it open, trying to look as casual as possible, though when you spot two heartrenders amongst the four people you’d heard earlier, you realize it won’t matter. They’ll be able to hear your racing heart just as well as you can hear theirs.

“Are you Y/n L/n?” Your attention turns to the squaller in front of you.

“Depends. Who’s asking?” You chance a glance behind her to see who you’d be up against if you fought back. Two heartrenders, one inferni, and one squaller.

You’re fucked.

“General Kirigan.” Your heart drops to your stomach. Saints, you’re really fucked.

“What does he want with me?” You ask, voice steady.

“We’ve had reports of someone assisting in smuggling Grisha across the Fold.” She states cooly, gaze cold and unwavering, “We have reason to believe that our culprit is you.”

You try to think of a way out of this situation. You definitely can’t run passed her. You could try to flee through the back door but really, where would that get you? You can’t take your usual escape route seeing as you had sent that family down it. You’ll be damned if you get them caught. You could flee through the woods, but do you really want to chance getting lost?

Well, you suppose getting lost is better than facing the wrath of the Black General.

Before you have a chance to overthink it, you grab the woman by the front of her kefta and punch her in the nose as hard as physically possible. You shove her backwards, sending her sprawling against the dirt, and take off towards the back of your home, hearing her shout at the others to follow you.

You make it out the back door and start sprinting through the woods, the wind lashing at your cheeks and biting at your forearms where your sleeves are still rolled up. You can hear them getting closer, shouting at you and one another. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, beating fast and hard.

Until it slows drastically. So drastically that it has you gasping and tripping over your own feet, scraping your face and palms against the ground. The world spins and spots dance across your vision. You try to fight against it, pressing your hands together and trying to raise your heart rate again. You manage to make it back onto your feet, stumbling and using the trees around you to keep yourself upright. You turn and lock eyes with one of the heartrenders, the one that’s currently trying to put you to sleep. He looks surprised and a little horrified by the fact that you’re still standing and you smirk at him, mimicking the position of his hands. You focus on a specific part of his brain, making it release a chemical you know will make him tired while lowering his heart rate and slowing his breathing all at once. He falls to the ground in seconds.

You breathe in a breath of relief as his hold on your body is broken, though it’s short lived. The other heartrender takes his place, knocking the wind out of your lungs and forcing you to the ground. You blink your eyes slowly, gasping as you watch a pair of boots enter your line of sight. The person rolls you over and you find yourself looking up at the squaller. There’s a fair amount of blood trickling from her nose and you note that she looks royally pissed off.

“Fuck you.” It’s slurred and really doesn’t help you, but it feels good watching her face screw up into a scowl.

“Finish the job, Ivan.” The heartrender that’s still standing steps forward and before you can even begin to protest, consciousness slips from your grasp.

—

You aren't sure how much time has passed when you wake, but your head is pounding and your mouth is dry. With a groan, you roll onto your back and press a hand to your head, startling when your other smacks you in the forehead. You peel your eyes open and when your hands finally come into focus, you realize you're in shackles, a metal bar separating your hands to prevent you from using your small science. It's then that your memory returns to you and the panic starts to set in.

You sit up with a gasp, scooting back—despite how much your palms sting—to lean against the wall as you take in your surroundings. The cell you're in is cold, the stone walls and dirt floor doing absolutely nothing to insulate the room. There's a long corridor beyond the bars with more cells on either wall, though they're all empty. There's a large wooden door at the other end of the hall, you assume that's the only way in or out.

You shiver, pulling your knees to your chest in an attempt to preserve your body heat. You attempt to touch your hands together so you can at least warm yourself up, but to no avail. After failing for the fifth time, you huff, wiping away the tears of frustration that have gathered on your waterline.

The heavy door you had noted earlier swings open with a bang, startling you beyond belief. Your eyes blow wide at the sight of the man practically stalking towards you. From the solid black shade of his kefta, you know that this is the infamous General Kirigan. You can’t read his expression, but you’re sure he can’t be happy. One of the heartrenders that had captured you—Ivan, you think his name is—accompanies him. It isn’t long before he reaches your cell, looming over you from your place on the floor.

“So, you’re the woman that’s been smuggling Grisha out of Ravka.” His voice is smooth and confident as he watches you glare at him.

“I have done no such thing.” You state firmly, watching him quirk a brow at you, “I run a clinic. I treat patients and let them stay when needed. What they do after they leave my home is none of my business.”

He’s silent for a moment. He seems to be analyzing you and you wish you knew what was going on in his head.

“I heard you put up quite the fight,” He starts and you wonder where he’s going with this, “You broke Zoya’s nose.”

“So that’s her name.” You smile passive aggressively, “I would apologize, but I’m not one to lie.”

He stares at you curiously. You squirm a bit under the intensity of his gaze, but you don’t seem scared, “You also managed to overpower one of my Oprichnik. The heartrender. Do you remember?”

“The one that tried to sedate me? Yes, I remember.” You huff, glancing away from him, “Listen, if you’re going to kill me, you might as well get it over with.” He huffs a small laugh at your words. It feels a little condescending, even more so when he looks at you with mild amusement.

“I’m not going to kill you, miss L/n. You,” he looks you up and down, “Intrigue me.”

“You’re keeping me alive because I’m interesting?” You scoff and stare at him incredulously, word saturated with sarcasm, “Oh, you really are so generous, General Kirigan.” You shake your head with a wry laugh, “If you aren’t going to kill me, what are you going to do with me?”

He looks to Ivan and jerks his head toward the door to your cell. You watch as the heartrender unlocks and opens it.

“I plan to make you an Oprichnik.”

“You what?” You gawk at him as Ivan pulls you up from the floor. This has to be some kind of fever dream. He must be lying. Maybe he’s planning to make an example of you. Maybe he’s misleading you so you’ll go with him willingly, “Why?”

“I don’t believe I owe you an explanation.” Like hell he doesn’t, “All you need to know right now is that you’ll be staying here awhile.”

“Where exactly is here?” You ask as Ivan takes your arm and begins leading you down the hall, the General falling into line a few paces ahead of you.

“The Little Palace.” Your eyes damn near fall out of your skull. You must have been asleep for days if they transported you all the way from Duva to Os Alta.

They lead you up a spiral staircase and down several hallways. You can’t help but admire the interior design of the place as you go. You’ve heard stories of the Little Palace but you realize now that they’re either grossly exaggerated or don’t do it justice. Whoever designed it has impeccable taste

As you pass people in the halls, they whisper amongst themselves. You make a point of glowering at them until they look away. You don’t intend to be here for long, but you find a bit of amusement watching them squirm under your gaze. You can only imagine the rumours that have formed in the time you’ve been unconscious.

Eventually, you come to a large set of doors with flowers and vines carved into the wood, a theme that seems to be common throughout the whole place. When the General pushes them open, you find yourself walking down yet another hallway, though this one has doors lining either side. He stops you at the fifth door to the right, unlocking the door with a small key and pushing it open. Ivan practically shoves you through the doorway and you shoot him a deadly look, though he seems unfazed. You turn your attention back to the room and find it is nothing like you were expecting.

It’s a fair size, a single bed pressed up against the far wall. There’s a small dresser that doubles as a bedside table against the wall to your left and a bare desk to your right. Just byond the desk, there's a door that leads to what you can only assume is a bathroom. One that you pray has a shower considering the dirt and grime that cakes your arms and face.

“This will be your dormitory.” You startle, and when you turn to look at him you realize Ivan is no longer next to him. You stare at him like he’s gone mad. This has to be some kind of cruel joke, “You’ll find your kefta in the top drawer of your dresser. You’ll be expected in the anatomy room at eight bells tomorrow morning. Until then, you’re free to explore the palace.”

“You’re fucking with me.” You blurt, immediately regretting the words the second they leave your mouth.

He laughs, and for a moment he feels human, “I assure you, miss L/n. I am not ‘fucking with you’, as you so eloquently put it.”

He reaches out to give you the key and you glance between him and the object nervously before taking it from him. You push aside the fact that he just swore in favour of asking, “Then why are you being so… nice?”

“Despite what you may have heard, I am not a monster.” A large part of you doesn’t believe him, sensing he has some ulterior motive for keeping you alive, “I know you don’t believe me, which is fair considering the circumstances.” Saints, can he read minds now? “But I assure you, as long as you do as you’re told, no harm will come to you. Understood?”

In other words, he’ll keep you alive as long as you don’t become a problem. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you nod, “Yes, General.”

“Good.” He nods back, “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything from me, find Ivan or Fedyor. They’ll know where to find me.”

You have no idea who Fedyor is, but you nod nonetheless before he closes your door, leaving you alone in a deafening silence. Dropping the key into a little ceramic dish on top of your dresser, you flop down onto the bed, the mattress firmer than the one you have at home. You sigh, rolling over onto your back with an arm thrown over your eyes.

How the hell are you going to get yourself out of this?

#aleksander kirigan #aleksander x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling fanfic #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x you #the darkling x reader #the darkling

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Text

let me be yours

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

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

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

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

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

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

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a-reverii · 3 months

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▸ REVERII'S JANUARY FIC RECS

━ THE WIZARDING WORLD.

sirius black

love was out to get me. ⇢ @cauliflowertree

napkins. ⇢ @crazyk-imagine

gossip. ⇢ @/crazyk-imagine

my heart won't start anymore, for you. ⇢ @curseofhecate

late night kisses. ⇢ @spaceagebachelormann

gorgeous. ⇢ @cassiopeiasdaughter

wish you were sober. ⇢ @starstruckmoony

regulus black

he loves you. ⇢ @cryonme

rescue you. ⇢ @thebrunettemuse

what once was. ⇢ @patrophthia

how to get the girl. ⇢ @/patrophthia

willow. ⇢ @/patrophthia

idiots to lovers. ⇢ @/patrophthia

in another life, perhaps. ⇢ @fourmoony

remus lupin

calm after the storm. ⇢ @earthgirl616

furry little secret. ⇢ @/earthgirl616

the girl with the books. ⇢ @solemnarration

if it wasn't for you meddling kids. ⇢ @writesowhatnext

'til the morning. ⇢ @upsidedownwithsteve

at ease. ⇢ @/upsidedownwithsteve

closure. ⇢ @vqlluna

james potter

on the house. ⇢ @astonishment

why did she say yes? ⇢ @/astonishment

i guess i thought i would be harder for you to let me go. ⇢ @morwap

breakup with your girlfriend, i'm bored. ⇢ @siriusmydeer

━━ ( navigation ) ( masterlist ) ( request )

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angelaestheticbaby · 6 months

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He found love

Summary: Aleksander finally understands what true love is.

Warnings: None I think, just tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: I know I disappeared for a long time, but there's a lot going on. I'm trying to make all the request. I love all❤️

Aleksander and the sun summoner -Alina- were the most loved couple in Ravka. Everyone talked about how cute and strong their love is.

It was until Aleksander met you. You; the dragon queen. You were able to communicate, tame and control the dragons all over the known world.

The first time Aleks saw you, you were training with your dragon. He was absolutely enchanted from then on.

When most people meet someone they are instantly attracted to, their heart races and their palms sweat and their brain turns to mush.

But not the Darkling.

He noticed all of these things and more, but kept his demeanor calm and unruffled. His face was a mask of composure, his breathing slow and steady.

Only one part didn't follow suit, one part that the Darkling's powers and will could not control. His heart was beating so loud he was afraid everyone could hear it, despite the fact that he stood perfectly still.

"Ohh Good afternoon General" you beamed like a sunshine. He couldn't wrap his brain around how someone so powerful could be so kind and pure at the same time. He thought already met the sun, but it wasn't like that all. No, you weren't like that. You were like the brightest star he has ever seen. Full of light on the night sky.

"Hello" he said, as if he could say anything other than that, not taking his eyes off your face for a second.

The way you talked was so genuine, there was nothing artificial, nothing put on. Your voice was like music to his ears, and seeing a smile cross your face was like seeing the sun rise after a cold, dark night.

He could already feel his control slipping, and yet something made him want to hold on, even if only for a moment.

"How are you today?" you asked, smiling.

"I am well" he said, his voice soft and gentle, "What brings you here?"

There was something different about how he spoke with you, something he wasn't even aware of himself. Normally he spoke with such authority and command, like a general issuing orders. But with you his voice was... softer. You saw something flicker in his eyes as he looked at you, some inner struggle that he was fighting. It was almost as if he wasn't as sure of himself, as he always was.

"Ohh just training with Firefly" you pointed at the young dragon which was jumping around the field like the baby he was.

"He needs to learn a bit" you explained.

He felt a smile spread across his face as he watched the dragon. It was a warm, genuine smile, which faded just as quickly as it arrived. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his composure, as he asked.

"Do you need any assistance?"

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind. He could help train your dragon. A simple task, but one he felt he could do. Maybe then you would smile that warm, genuine smile again.

"Well if you want to?" you shrugged. "It'd be good to have company" with a smile, you turned back to Firefly. He could feel his face heat up, and yet for some reason he felt the need to accept your invitation.

"Yes, I would love to join you" his voice was still soft and gentle, and he watched you with a curious expression on his face as he went to your side.

"Good" you grinned. "Here.." you handed him a fish. "I know it's gross, but I'll show you what to do with it" you explained.

You grabbed an other fish from the whistled to Firefly.

"Okay...Firefly! Sit!" you commanded to the dragon. Your voice and the way you told the creature what to do made Aleks's heart race.

He was already in awe of you for being able to command an entire dragon, but the way you did it was like magic. The dragon seemed to listen to you instinctively without any resistance at all.

Once you gave the command he watched as the dragon sat down with a low grumble. And yet you seemed completely unfazed by the dragons size and potential danger. To you it was just... a dragon. Seeing you command a dragon like that made his admiration for you grow even more, if that was even possible.

"Now give him the fish as a reward" you smiled at Aleks. He took the fish from your hand, and the dragon looked up at him instantly. Even if it was just a dragon to you, to him it was still a large, powerful beast. Yet it almost seemed to show some signs of shyness as it looked at him.

As he held the fish out the dragon came closer and began eating it, almost like a dog. He felt a smile spread across his face as he watched, there was something about this moment that made him feel... happy.

"How was it? Isn't it amazing?" you asked excitedly.

"It's incredible," he said as the dragon finished the fish, "To be able to control such a beast, I have never seen anything like it."

He looked at you with a feeling of wonder and amazement, his admiration for your powers growing even more.

However, even as he watched the magic you wielded, something else was catching his eyes. How you looked at the dragon and spoke to it almost like it was a human, with love and compassion. This was something else entirely. It moved something within him.

He knew deep down that he was still with Alina and he loved her. He loved her until that moment with you. When you talked so passionatly about the things you loved he felt like he fell more and more in love with you. Aleks forget about Alina and their relationship. All he knew was you.

He hadn't even noticed that he had moved closer to you, until your arms brushed against each other and your voices grew softer.

He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and his breath caught in his throat.

The feeling of being near you was like a drug, intoxicating him, and suddenly he didn't even remember what he was doing or why he was here. He was so focused on you.

You were his entire focus now.

"Hi" you smiled when he got so close to you that your chest touched. It felt like time moved in slow motion as your chests touched, and suddenly everything stopped.

He felt so many emotions in that moment, fear, joy, confusion, arousal. His heart raced, and yet for some reason he didn't pull away, not now, not ever. He finally said with a voice so soft you could barely hear it,

"Hi, Angel" when his lips gently brushed yours, you made a confident move and pressed your lips hard to his.

And that was the moment he knew; He found true love. He found you.

#aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling fanfic #ben barnes #ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling fluff

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padfootagain · 9 months

Text

Like Tracing Lines

Hello ! Today, we’re answering an anonymous request for the Darkling : “A Darkling request, please. May I have a Durast artist!reader who's extremely introverted. She just wants to draw in somewhere quite to draw designs, etc. especially she doesn't want anyone to see what she's drawing or who. And it only got worse when the sun summoner came.

You can choose how this goes, as long as it's a happy ending sksksk. I just really want an angst with an eventual happy ending, and I really love your writings Ridjsjsjs”

Thank you so much for your request, anon! I hope you enjoythe fic I’ve written for you!

I hope you all like this cute piece! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst, hurt/comfort, an awful lot of fluff

Summary: The Darkling has always kept an eye on you, from afar, although he doesn’t admit why. But when the Sun Summoner arrives at the Little Palace, your lonely habits seem to grow exponentially, and he is more and more worried about you.

Word Count: 2074

The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You don’t worry yourself over the time you spend on your own, nor the fact that your self-isolation has increased these days. After all, people are used to it. You’re introverted, possibly too much so. It’s simply reassuring, to be left alone.

The life in the Little Palace can be crowded, sometimes. For someone as introverted as you, it is often too much. You find solace and peace in drawing, though. Mostly designs, sometimes sceneries, even portraits, every once in a while.

It’s soothing. Tracing lines on paper, forcing them to take shape, adding shadows, adding life. It’s therapeutic, at this point.

Everyone at the Little Palace knows that your drawings are off-limits, though. No one has ever been granted the right to look at them. You keep their beauty hidden for your own eyes; not out of selfishness, but simply because you assume that no one would understand them. Not the way you do.

After all, you see the world through the eyes of a Durast, and a talented one at that. You and David work a lot together, mostly because you are both equally talented and curious about everything. But if his world translates mostly through numbers and long silences, yours bubbles out of your fingers and spills into shapes on paper.

But when Alina Starkov arrived at the Little Palace, a little too eager to make friends, she asked about your drawings. And it would have been fine, because she was new, and couldn’t know that you preferred to keep your drawings to yourself. You closed up a lot more when she insisted, though. And when she started to ask you regularly what you were currently drawing you grew quieter than usual, folded yourself back into a pocket-size version of your own self that you could hide away in your bedroom, in the safety of the Fabricator laboratories, or in long walks under the moonlight, when it was too dark for anyone to be awake.

If people did notice – which you doubt, in all fairness – no one spoke a word about it. You reckon that only a handful of Fabricators care about you enough to notice anyway.

You’re mistaken, though. There is someone else who cares, a little too much to his own liking, even. There is someone who has noticed the way you disappear these days, the way you try to look even smaller than before, to look invisible, avoiding to be noticed.

There is someone else who has noticed, and he is worried.

Of course, he has noticed. The Darkling has been away from the Little Palace for a few months now, fighting battles, planning the next phases of the wars. When Alina arrived, obviously, he brought her home, joining back his War Room, the safe halls he had built centuries before. And even if he shouldn’t have rejoiced at the thought of spending time with you again, he did.

There is something about you, he can’t explain it. Something soothing, something quiet, something… good. The type of goodness he once longed to protect, the kind he had spent a long time fighting for; until the weight of time and suffering darkened his soul and blinded him.

He found back some of the brightness of his earlier days in you, though. Something that made him long for something beyond himself, for something he couldn’t have.

Peace. Quiet. A normal life…

You have grown closer over the past few years, you working closely with him as a Fabricator. You are friends, or even, a little more than that, even if none of you care to admit it.

Of course, he noticed the way you fled, even before him. Only a few days after Alina’s arrival, and you were already spending hours locked away in your room, hiding in the library…

He knows too well what it is to hide, and he doesn’t want you to do so. Not to this extent, at least. You seem frightened, these days, and he can’t have that.

He’s built the Little Palace in hopes to banish fear from Grisha’ faces. He can’t bear the sight upon your features…

When you disappear again, right after dinner, he can’t take it anymore. Instead of heading to his room, he follows you, using his shadows to remain unnoticed. Until you’ve settled in an alcove, in a deserted corner of the library. He remains quiet, out of the light of the small candle you’ve brought along, and he watches you as you take a sketchbook and a pencil out of your pocket. You’ll be drawing, perhaps the moon, the stars, the trees beyond the window against which you’re resting your shoulder now. Perhaps some new idea plaguing your mind. He catches himself before he can hope that you could think of him…

He lets his shadows vanish, slowly, he calls back the darkness to make himself visible. He purposefully drags his feet over the stones to make a little noise, as to not surprise you too much. You freeze as you hear the noise, slowly turn to him.

And he shouldn’t think about the way the light plays with your eyelashes, the way the warm golden light of the candle mingles with the silvery one of the moon to bathe your features in a perfect light. He shouldn’t think, then, about how beautiful you are. About the way he longs to reach out. About how he doesn’t feel so lonely, now that your gaze has caught his. He shouldn’t think about the way you visibly relax as you recognize him. He shouldn’t hope that you like seeing him, here, by your side. He shouldn’t long for it.

And yet, there he is…

“Good evening, Y/N.”

His voice is low, cold, a tone unreadable. As usual. You grin.

“Good evening, sir.”

He chuckles, looks up at you.

“There’s no one else, Y/N.”

He notices the way your breath catches before you speak, but doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s too old to claim such details as victories.

“Good evening, Aleksander.”

You share a smile, the kind brighter than the ones he gives everybody else but you.

He walks closer again, standing by the wall without leaning against it, facing you.

“Is there something I can do for you?” you ask him, closing your sketchbook in a hurry.

But he wasn’t looking at it. He knows better than that.

“You could answer my questions.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise, but let him continue.

He crosses his arms before his chest.

“Why are you hiding this way?”

You avert your eyes, fiddling with your pencil.

“I’m not hiding more than usual. You know me. I enjoy being on my own.”

“But you usually spend less time alone. Is there something wrong?”

His voice grows concerned, even if it is tainted with its usual coldness, the one that usually makes his emotions unrecognisable. He allows himself to let just a speck of his armour down with you though, just enough to let you guess that his worry is genuine.

You shrug, but his stare is heavy on your frame, making you bend your head and shoulders, and you can’t hold back when he’s like this: presence too strong, almost unbearable…

“I… I’m quite bothered by Alina Starkov.”

He frowns, seemingly puzzled.

“Am I asking too much from you? Are you and David too pressured?”

“No, no, no! That’s not it! It is simply… it’s stupid.”

You’re surprised when he walks closer, and even more so when he reaches for your chin, a tender hold between his thumb and his index finger. You don’t resist when he guides your head upwards, making you look at him, irises as dark as his shadows…

“What is it, Y/N? You can tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

There is something threatening in his voice, a tremor that’s never there when he speaks to you. But he doesn’t speak of you, then. He speaks of what he will do to whoever dares to hurt you…

You smile.

“It’s truly nothing. I’m just… being extra-shy.”

You heave a sigh, but Aleksander doesn’t have to encourage you again, you continue on your own.

“Alina is asking about my drawings. A lot. Too much. She doesn’t seem to understand the word ‘no’.”

You give him a humorous smile, but you seem too fragile for it to be genuine.

He nods, a small frown creasing his brow.

“I will talk to her,” he says, but you shake your head.

“It’s nothing. I’m sure she doesn’t even mean any harm. I’m just… It’s personal, you see. Maybe it’s silly, but it’s like… having someone read your diary or… your mind even. If it makes sense. It’s silly, isn’t it?”

You expect a harsh answer, you don’t know why. Because Aleksander has never been harsh with you. On the contrary, if his tone is always cold, he’s never said anything mean or hurtful to you. His voice is often a little lower, you like to believe it’s even a little warmer… but then again, you like to long for unreachable things.

You’re oblivious to the fact that his voice is warmer when he speaks to you.

The harsh answer doesn’t come. Instead, his fingers slide from your chin to your jaw, up to cup your cheek. His thumb is tender as it strokes your skin. There is a rush of power coursing through your vein because of his amplifying qualities, but you barely notice it, the feeling hidden by your pounding heart and the intensity of his stare.

No matter the butterflies in your stomach, or the rush of your heart, it still feels reassuring, his feathery touch across your cheek. Soothing. Almost like tracing lines on a page.

When Aleksander speaks again, you’ve never heard his voice so soft.

“It is not silly. We all have our secrets, and our own ways to deal with our demons. I will talk to Alina, make sure she does not bother you again. I want you to feel safe in these halls. I do not want you to feel like you need to hide, not here. Not when you are under my protection. Do you understand?”

You nod, although you’re not sure to understand. Not the full extent of his words, at least.

You’re disappointed when his touch disappears, his fingers slowly slipping down the length of your cheek, the pads hanging at your jawline a moment longer, but he reluctantly pulls away, eventually.

“You should rest,” he goes on, his voice colder again, his tone difficult to read, back to its usual mysteries.

You nod, and he turns to leave. You don’t know what comes over you when you call for him again.

“Aleksander!”

He stops, slowly turns to you. There is something puzzled in his frown.

You have no idea where the strength is coming from, but you speak the words anyway.

“Would you like to take a walk? With… with me?”

His puzzle frown turns into a surprised raise of his eyebrow.

“Now?” he asks, and there’s something almost amused in the way the corner of his mouth curves upwards, just a little bit.

“I mean… unless it is too late…”

You fall silent, and he adores seeing you this nervous. It’s endearing.

He shouldn’t let you in so easily. But then again, you look lovely, under the lights of the candle and the moon, and he longs to touch your skin again, no matter the excuse that would allow the contact.

He offers you his open hand.

“Shall we?”

The grin you give him is brighter than any light Alina could ever summon.

And he knows that he is making a mistake as soon as your fingers brush his palm. He knows he is making his own life immensely more complicated that it ought to be by letting you in. He should be focused on seducing Alina Starkov, on looking for the Stag, on planning his wars, on planning his next move against the king.

But then again, your hand is warm against his cold one. Your skin is smooth, your touch reassuring, and you make his heart skip a beat, in a way it hasn’t jumped for decades, maybe even for centuries.

Perhaps, just this once, just for tonight… just for you, he could make his life a little more complicated. Perhaps, just for this once, he could make himself a little weaker, a little more vulnerable… just for you.

************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x you #the darkling fanfic #aleksander morozova #aleksander x reader #aleksander x y/n #aleksander fanfiction #the darkling oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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thebigsl33p · 3 months

Text

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

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

Main Masterlist

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

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

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

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

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

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leonid.” He repeats.

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

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

He says it anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again, they both laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grisha?” The man interrogates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary.

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

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

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

The confession comes late at night.

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

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

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

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

His feet take him to her room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.”

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

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

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

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babesiamthemenace · 1 year

Text

I love you

No one requested this, I just needed to get this out of my system before I proceeded as a functioning human. Just a short little piece to break you.

Warning: angst, hurt no comfort, major character death, blood, spoilers for the last episode of season 2

Not my gif Requests are open

“I love you”

Such a sweet phrase had never hurt so much. It permeated the air with such power that the air was sucked from your lungs. All of the sound -the battle going on behind you- quieted. The pit in your stomach dropped at the gravity of his words.

“I don’t want to, but I do.” Aleksander whispered “I love you.”

Your breath betrayed you, coming out in a small whimper. They were words you wished to hear time and time again, and yet, never at all. Tears blurred your vision as your brow creased, trying to stop them.

“You don’t mean that” your voice was shaking, every word coming out slow “You can’t love me.”

Only one of you was lying.

A large hand cupped the side of your face, fingers full of warmth. The rough pads ran over your skin as he pressed your forehead to his.

“I love you.” The dark scars across his face were rough against yours as he nuzzled closer “You are my peace, my only light.” Your noses were touching “I need you like the air I breathe.” Lips ghosted over yours. “You consume my every waking thought, and slide into my sleep.” dark eyes bore into you “You have become my only dream.” His mouth was on yours, pouring out every unsaid confession, every stolen glance, and small touch. You leaned up into him, lips devouring his as your hand went down.

The sword pierced his torso easily. He grunted, keeling forwards into you. You finally let a sob go, the tears springing from your eyes freely. Your legs hit the ground, a combination of his weight and your emotions. The blade was cast away as you fell.

You cradled him easily to your chest, head resting in your arms. Your fingers gripped tightly to his shirt as a small line blackened blood ran from his lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you kept repeating the phrase, voice getting more and more frantic. Tears continued to run down your face.

A weak hand came up and wiped one away, thumb resting on your cheek. One of your hands came up and pressed his palm closer to you, kissing it.

“It’s alright, love.” his eyes had begun to lose focus. “You could never hurt me.”

You choked on a sob, head leaning down to his

“I love you, Aleskander.” A small smile ghosted across his features. It stayed there as the rest of life left him.

Your body shook as you cried into his shirt, unable to look at him any longer. You whimpered against him.

“I love you. I love you. I love you”

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone fanfiction #general kirigan x reader #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova #the darkling x reader #aleksander morovoza x reader #angst #character death #yikes #the darkling fanfic

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myeur-n · 10 months

Text

Imagine that the Darkling had just caused the death of his own mother, and he needed to look for you once more

Note:

Purely based on s2 of the Shadow and Bone Netflix series, so some lore might be incorrect

"We've used the last of Baghra's remains for the others," the Darkling's Alkemi informed him, but he remained in his lonely despair in a mind unhinged. He needed a break from all of this planning to expand the Fold and consume the whole of Ravka in his darkness - he needed,

"The Wanderer," he murmured under his breath as his eyes darkened with a new way to beat this grief festering within him.

"Vladim, tell everyone to make use of their new Amplifiers. I'm going to scout ahead for some time," the Darkling pushed himself off his chair and began to march out of his own encampment.

"But General, why can't you just let the others do it for you?" his Alkemi raised a brow.

"That's none of your concern," the Darkling turned back at him, eyes glaring into his very soul while the corners of his camp turned darker. "Do as I say and speak nothing of it?" He ordered again through gritted teeth. The Alkemi pressed his lips hard against each other and nodded.

The Darkling mounted his horse and wasted no time astriding North, knowing what he needed was somewhere in the Fjerdan borders, the last time he had heard of her.

You were knee deep in a river with a ceramic vase in your hand. As you dipped it into the cold yet calm, icy river to collect the cold waters, you carefully walked your way out of river. Looking around your surroundings first to ensure that no one was looking, you slowly heated the vase with your own fire.

"Not very discreet now, aren't we?" A familiar voice suddenly called out from within the darkness of the forest ahead of you.

"Who's there?" You frowned and clenched your fists tight, though you already had an idea whose voice it belonged to.

"Y/n, has it really been that long since we last saw each other?" The Darkling calmly sauntered out of the shadows of the trees, with both his hands clasped behind his back.

"Its you. How long has it been? Half a century, I'd bet," you moved toward him and shoved your vase into his hands.

"Do you not know who I am?" He turned to you with a cold tone, but you've been living in the Fjerdan mountains long enough to know that he was just playing around with you.

"Whatever identity you've taken this time, Aleksander, I don't care. Just don't bother me with your propaganda," and both of you began to walk towards your modest cabin made of wood and steel, blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

"Anyway, what brings you here? This place isn't exactly friendly to Grisha. And I've heard that you're not really popular in Ravka either," you opened the door and led him in first. Just as he was about to sit on your favourite spot and in your living room with his ridiculously massive fur coat, you forced it out of him, which he complied with a light, but bittersweet smile.

The Darkling was usually broody, but you knew that something was genuinely upsetting him.

"How about we sit by the fireplace while I make some tea, then? Just like old times," you offered.

"I'm willing to sit by the fireplace, but I do not wish to drink your horrible tea," he only said as he looked around your plain house. You nodded and went to the kitchen, still within earshot of what your guest would say.

"I didn't imagine that you would live someplace so... small, Little Saint," he remarked on the lack of decorations in your house. "Then again, you're the one who's lesser in ambition between us two,".

"You don't understand, Aleksander. Not everyone lives in your Little Palace, under the riches of the kings that betrayed our own kind," you brought two mugs of hot drinks to the fireplace and settled down slowly next to him, passing one of them to him.

"I told you, I don't want your tea," he groaned.

"Its hot cocoa. And stop complaining like a child," you rolled your eyes.

Cautiously, he accepted it and took a few sips, before he placed it down next to him.

"Y/n, there's something I must tell you," he began.

You didn't answer, but your silence beckoned him to continue talking.

"That is... I wish you could have accepted the title of Saint, y/n. If you had been at the Little Palace with me from the start, you could have kept me in check," he choked out his words.

"I don't think old friends could have changed you. You've turned from the path we used to walk together hundreds of years ago,".

"But with you there, you could have at least - burnt some sense into me, like you've always done," he hissed as his eyes glared into fireplace. "You could have...," he breathed, then your living room began to darken with his shadow.

"Could have what?".

"You could have saved me from killing my own mother," his voice trembled as the confession took place.

"What?" You resigned your comfort in his presence and began to crawl backwards and away from him.

"Its true. I killed my mother-,".

"How could you do that to Baghra?!" You shot upwards, now fully standing and prepared to summon your wildfire to protect yourself.

Had the Darkling came to you to destroy every reminder of his past? Both of you had been comrades since you were children - you were his first friend, follower and soldier. If he could kill Baghra - the very person who birthed him and stood by his side for centuries, then what of you?

"No, no, don't be scared, y/n!" He held his hands out, expression contorted in fear - but not fear of you.

You summoned a sphere of concentrated fire, but then, suddenly the shadow around you began to form a beast of more than 8 feet tall, barely able to fit into your own cabin. The beast brushed past the Darkling and stretched out its dark tentacles toward you, prepared to decapitate you - and you recognised it from Baghra's old stories, that it was a Nichevo'ya.

Only the Sun Summoner could stun this monster.

You spread out your fire into the Cut, prepared to fight against it.

"NO, don't do it!" The Darkling shouted, but his voice drowned out between you and the monster. You took a deep breath, and as the Nichevo'ya stretched its hands towards you for the killing blow, you quickly turn defensive and made a shield of fire.

It let out an ear-piercing scream, and you summoned a beam of fire from your core, before you penetrated it into the monster of darkness.

The Nichevo'ya disappeared into the shadows.

Your breathing was ragged and you needed to take a seat, so you clumsily rest yourself against your own wall.

"Was that the thing that killed your mother?" You let out a tired sigh.

"Yes...," the Darkling only stared in silence at you.

"And it's yours?".

"Yes,".

"How dare you use merzost again! Can't you see that its hurt thousands of people once, and now you've gone ahead and did it to your own mother," you exclaimed at him and rushed to open the door. "Get out and never come back. I can't see you like this," turning your gaze away from his scarred face, you tried to control your breathing.

"You know I never meant to, y/n," he began to unbuckle his knees and slowly approached you, as if he feared both your wrath and himself.

"It was always like that, Aleksander. You weren't a monster when all of this obsession to save our kind began. You were our commander - someone I could pour my loyalty for. But now," you turned your head away, holding back your tears. "You're obsessed with hunting down this Sun Summoner of yours and expanding the Fold. Won't that kill all Grisha too?".

The Darkling pursed his lips and studied your face. Slowly turning to finally meet his eyes once, you realised that he was displeased with your opinions, but made no move to silent you with any threat.

"I promised those that follow my command they will be safe," he added in a low voice.

"And I'll bet that they believed it. However, you know that you can't fool me. I was there with you for hundreds of years, heard thousands of your promises to all of Grisha. And you only brought upon them ruin and death with your ambition,".

Your old friend remained silent and only stared at you, wide-eyed and furious. He shifted his gaze to the door you've opened wide to beckon for his leave. Nodding, his legs slowly brought him outside your house. You followed him out as if you're still attracted to his power of command like all those years ago.

"Aleksander," you said once more, and he stopped in his tracks at the middle of forest. "You're not a monster like what everyone has said, especially your Alina Starkov. If she had seen what the previous kings had done to Grisha, the way that people had hunted us down and refused to provide us any food and water - simply because you requested more from the king, she would have done the same despite what she thought of herself," you approached him and cupped his one metallic hand, and his real one in yours.

You flinched a bit at how cold it was.

"I know I can't stop you once you've started your plans, but please," you began to rub your fingers against his knuckles, warming them up with your fire of hearth. "Don't kill the Sun Summoner. You're already lonely enough, and I can't see you ruin yourself for another century again," your breath trembled.

He nodded, and only looked into your bright eyes of hope with his starless ones. You weren't begging him to promise himself to your words, for you knew that your old friend couldn't break his promises to you - and so his silence revealed to you - that even he did not know if he would kill his Sun Summoner or not.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and embraced him. The Darkling closed his eyes, held back his breath and only buried his face within your arms.

Something was telling you that this might be the last time you'd see him, and he thought so too.

#shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #fanfic #fem reader #the darkling #ben barnes #friends #aleksander morozova #aleksander x y/n #inferni #grishaverse #final battle #aleksander x reader #alina starkov #sun summoner #shadow summoner #y/n #angst #shadow and bone s2

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