#alina edged

[cilyra]

shadow and bone trilogy painted by me ☀️

[justmoreocs-edits]

Name Meanings: Multiple Perspective Characters

Inspired by this.

Lucy Hartley from A Few More Hours (Until Dawn); Claribel 'Belle' Burrow and Ximena 'Mia' Moreno from A Knife's Edge (Stranger Things); Chizoba 'Chizzy' Duncan, Alina Driscoll and Montgomery 'Monty' Sanderson from A Matter of Blood (A Discovery of Witches); Francine 'Frankie' Alverez from Crime, Friendship and Other Things (Detroit: Become Human); Cassandra 'Cassie' Verona from Dearest Verona (Deadly Class).

[flintmirandas]

not forgiving netflix for cutting i am become a blade just because people thought it was corny bc that took out my favourite mal line “it’s a promise to be better than i was, it’s a vow that if i can’t be anything else to you, the least i can be is a weapon in your hand”

[glitter50000]

bitches be getting so happy watching the darkling being portrayed as a villain and a toxic lover. It’s me, I’m bitches

[bloodcrave]

❛ hope softens the rough edge of every promise. ❜

                  TONGUE DANCED ACROSS her sharpened teeth, brilliant whitened yellows tinged with a stain of red to the edges.  blood, wine, indulgence.  expression would scrunch as though ahri’s statement had brought with it a pungent aroma, consuming the senses with overwhelming display.  the strzyga allowed guttural rumble to emit from her throat, though she wasn’t all too FRUSTRATED so much as lost in sea of contemplations.  promises shouldn’t be as such, but their existence was a terrifying ordeal.  putting that much faith in another to uphold a bargain of words.  there were few if any creatures that alina would ALWAYS entrust to maintain commitment each and every time it was given.  the world was filled with broken establishments.  government, families, friends, communities.  if hope was the only thing that could soften the sharp slices, then the world was in danger.

                        when hope failed…

             “in order to accept a promise, i guess you have to have hope to begin with.  if you didn’t hope they’d keep it, you’d hardly regard it as a promise.  more of a lie.”  features softened themselves, trying to ease the edge she had bore, a hunt disrupted and now leaving her empty of general movement.  fingers fidgeted at the edge of her clothes and then tapped to her lips.  a lingering flavor of dirt and crimson; s w e e t n e s s and salty somehow a sensation to greet her.  “what promise sits so threatening in your mind that you have to dull its concerns?”

@vulpesse

[nezuscribe]

the moments after you got married to gojo were so hectic that you can barely remember anything. a marriage of convenience was usual, especially with your ranks in society, but usually people acted as if they weren’t what they were.

you’re barely able to get a good look at your supposed husband before he quickly makes and exit, your brows furrowing in confusion and leaving everybody else to wonder in hushed whispers.

his parents run after him, sending you a look of apology, but you can’t even think.

it’s only a few minutes later where you’re ushered down a row of halls, expecting to be shown into a ballroom, but instead you found yourself in an empty vast room, starring at your two pieces of luggage as your heart beats rapidly.

you’re not able to say your goodbye to your family, but you doubt they’d even want to hear it, and despite your insistent questions, your maids are just as confused as you are.

“will he be coming here?” you ask as your maids tug the dress off of your body, hours of tedious labor to make you look presentable being scrubbed away.

you’re sitting in a tub of scalding water, your arms and legs still raw from just this morning.

“i don’t know my lady,” one of the maids says, looking at another girl through frenzied eyes, just as lost as you were.

“is there going to be another gathering? if not tonight, then later?” you look around, eyes darting around and heart hammering loudly in your chest.

“i…” the girl, alina, swallows, “i don’t know,” she says, but you can tell she’s trying to be gentle.

even though you felt as if you hadn’t been prepared enough for this hasty marriage, everything you were told was going to happen hasn’t happened. he’s supposed to bed you…whatever that means. you’re supposed to see your husband fully, but you only saw a flash of his face as he laid a stone like kiss to your cheek.

you gnaw on your lips, chest heaving up and down as your eyes wilt with worry.

“did i do something wrong?” you finally ask, sinking deeper into the tub as the bustling noise around you stops for a second.

one of the older ladies who had been washing your arms gives you a soft smile.

“it’s best not to think about the past,” though you can tell she’s trying to soothe you, it only makes it worse, “look on the bright side! you’re a gojo! do you know how many girls would kill to be in your spot?” she says with a chuckle that you can only muster up a shaky smile to.

you didn’t want to be a gojo if your husband didn’t even want you to be one, you thought. nervousness began filling your system.

were you lied to? did he not agree to this marriage?

you don’t say anything for the rest of the night, letting everybody else do what they needed to as you sit at the edge of your bed, watching the door, waiting for it to open.

you twirled your ring back and forth, eyes growing dry from not blinking.

your husband didn’t come that night. nor would he the night after that. later you found out he’s staying in a separate bedroom, on a another floor, in another wing of the estate.

[nottswitch]

Hi babe!! 💞

Congrats on 1k you deserve it!!!

can i get 1 pls?

hi baby!! thank you sm, and thanks for sending a request 💘 i kinda hoped that this aesthetic would come up for theo bc i really wanted to use this pic, and yay! it did! your aesthetic is…

— glowwave

(surrounding the theme of things that glow in the dark or with assistance from a UV light or with the glow of neon lights and bright, neon colors)

» navigation ; masterlist ; theo m.list ; how to request ; 1k celebration

18+ smut

the booming beats coming from the party were filling the (almost) empty bathroom, making the floor beneath your feet vibrate. not for long, though – in a second, you were lifted up onto the sink, the cold porcelain edge digging into the back of your thighs. you didn’t really notice, though – your mind was preoccupied with your ex’s mouth devouring your own.

theo’s hands wandered all over your body, shamelessly sneaking underneath your tank top to palm your tits as his lips moved down to your jawline and the side of your neck. the feeling of his teeth sinking into your flesh made you moan softly into his ear, pulling on his hair to have a look at his face. the purple fluorescent light inside the bathroom made him look like some otherworldly creature, an alien who always managed to take you to another dimension, to a new planet completely of his own.

"missed me, cara mia?" theo murmured against your lips, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. you already knew the answer – it was the same shit every time: you’d convince yourself that you didn’t need him, that you were way better off without him, that you just weren’t meant to be. but…

"fuck- yes!"

the words were practically coaxed out of you by theo’s fingers harshly shoved deep inside your treacherously dripping pussy, making you desperately grab his shoulders for support and moan in a lewd, pornographic way into the air.

theo’s face was now adorned with an even wider, cockier smirk as his ‘fuck me’ (or, in this case, ‘fuck you’) eyes studied your blissed out expression intensely, catching every single twitch of your mouth, every single wrinkle creasing between your furrowed eyebrows. the wet, squelching sounds of your arousal mixed with the beats of some annoying techno sound rang through your positively empty brain, filled with cum, cum, theo, cum, theo-

a gasp broke out of your lips when you felt his hand cupping your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, firmly pressing the soft flesh against your teeth.

"what’s going on in that pretty little head, hm?" theo cooed, his voice clearly mocking. you wanted to reply, but the addition of a third finger shut you up instantly, a moan serving as a perfect reminder of your already fucked out state. "ah, piccolina, you never change."

theo chuckled and let go of your face, moving his hand to wrap around your throat instead. his lips hovered just above your parted, glistening ones. his eyebrow went up when he saw your eyes rolling to the back of your head again as his fingers curled inside you one more time.

"words, cara mia. use your words," theo hissed, tightening his hold on your throat to remind you who was in charge of the whole ordeal – although, there were never any doubts.

"cum, theo, cum," you mumbled, your voice way more high-pitched than usual, like a broken music box playing the same melody over and over again. his eyes drifted from your face to the place where his fingers were currently fucking your coherency away. the smirk was fused to his lips at that point, encouraged by drops of wetness bouncing off your inner thighs with each thrust of his.

"cum, bambina, scream my name. i want every single person in this fucking party to know you’re still hopelessly mine."

playlist

❥ e.t. by katy perry

❥ unfold by alina baraz & galimatias

❥ so sad so sexy by lykke li

❥ colors by halsey

❥ dancer in the dark by chase atlantic

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。if you're ready (let me) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.3k

summary: you find the other thing to surprise gojo with on his birthday. 

contains: f!reader, 18+ nsfw, reader is in lingerie, lead up to cunnilingulus (mentions pussy once)

a/n: a follow-up to the col lingerie fic, ‘take my time (i’ll spend it all on you)’, might be one of the more explicit ones i’ve written (which i don’t write often! so please be kind!); title inspired by ‘if you let me - alina baraz’; happy birthday to our boy ♡!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +04a (extra). take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) <- you are here -> 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things that come to mind when you think about what to get Gojo for his birthday: 

A couple of his favorite sweets (predictable and too frequent—he just bought a box of them last week); something customized and redesigned, maybe his blindfold? (which, you backtrack to realize, you had already gifted him for his 21st birthday years ago); answered prayers—requests that he continuously and ‘jokingly’ hints at (which, you also realize—he’s only really whined about two). 

Two requests, with one he’s already walked in on months ago, spoiling your what-would-have-been birthday gift. 

So, this leaves you with the other one—

The only other request. A repeat of something you did by accident more than a decade ago. 

Except, now, on purpose, you know that Gojo’s asking for something entirely different, far from innocent. 

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you bite the inside of your cheek. You hold it—

One.

The lace on the hem of your bra cups tickles your ribcage—it’s softer, but far more embellished than the pink one you’ve been (over)using. A gift from Gojo (“just a little something,” he said, handing it over to you one morning). 

Two.

You rub your thighs together, white suspender straps gliding against your skin; the metal attachments on the lace garters pull taut, holding them in place. 

Three. 

Goosebumps litter your arms, little dots surfacing; it’s hard not to feel nervous when you know what awaits you—your heartbeat racing.

When you open your eyes as you exhale, breath shaky and vision a little hazy, you focus on Gojo—sitting on the floor, back slouched against his couch with an impossibly handsome smirk on his mouth. His lips are upturned, pink and curled at the corner, but bitten, just the lower bit.  

You lock eyes, sleet white framing a darkening blue sky. 

Something stirs in your belly when he shifts in his seat, the sleeves of his shirt tightening as he rests his arms wide open on luxurious gray cotton—an invite towards him.

An invite to—

“Maybe you should sit on my face again.” 

The memory makes your face burn. 

You slipped the first time it happened, tripping backwards over Tsumiki’s books stacked up on the floor. At 20, you were far from rusty, reflexes quick as you caught hold of the edge of the couch—the couch that Gojo also happened to be napping on. 

There was an attempt: to balance yourself, only for your body to sink, gravity acting against your control. So, you landed right there, buttcheek covered by the fabric of your skirt, sitting straight on Gojo’s nose. 

That incident had buried itself so deep inside your mind you were confident Gojo would never bring it up again unless you did. 

But, of course he does, and when you least expect it too—by the counter of a gelato store, licking the dessert on hand while waiting for the cashier to punch the cost in.

And when he wets his lips now, a glimpse of pink swiping over his skin quickly, almost discreetly, you’re reminded of the same feeling you had back then—

—heated up, nervous; shy. 

You move closer, his eyes straying lower, going over the pretty white number you have on; the one he got you. 

And you wonder, if there’s vanity in the hunger he’s regarding you with, how what you’re wearing reminds you so much of him: white as the strands that fall into his eyes, playful but delicate at the same time.

The lace details on this set are more intricate, outlined with iridescent gray—an almost silver that shines blue when light hits; with sheer net as the base fabric, floral appliqués are carefully positioned on the bra and panty fronts, supported by ribbings that go down to the hem. 

It’s a full-set, garters with the suspender belt and everything. Sexy but still soft—just what he likes.

And you’d be a lot less embarrassed walking up to him now if it weren’t for the single, most nerve-wracking anticipation: that you’ll be sitting on his face, for real, later. and maybe from now on.

He pats his lap, motioning for you to settle on it. 

Your knees buckle under you when you reach him, holding onto his shoulders as you go down. And when you settle on his lap, straddling him, he reaches for your bra straps, pulling it off to the side.

The kisses he lands on each of your shoulders are soft, but his lips lay plump against your skin—a faint ‘smack’ sounding with each one. Your breath hitches when he goes lower, lightly sucking on the skin of your chest. It’s not enough to bruise, not yet, but a tightening in your stomach tells you you want it to.

He’s trying to get you to relax, you know—with how he’s gripping your hips, rubbing circles onto the skin underneath his fingertips.

When his mouth crawls up your neck, licking, you throw your head back—a sharp intake of breath as you release it heavily. Your fingers rake through his undercut, grasping onto fists of white. Then you shiver, gasping as trembles ripple through you when his lips glide past your ears.

“Toru,” 

He pulls away, blinking at you, half-lidded; you blink back twice. 

“You ready?” his eyes search for yours, your chin perched between his thumb and index finger—he tilts you to him.

The smile on his face is teasing, but gentle. And if you say no because you’re too nervous, you know he won’t force you. 

(Even if the hardness in his sweatpants is pressing intently against you).  

You try to shake off the nerves, nodding your head as you take in another breath, preparing to push yourself up by his shoulders.  

It’s odd to think about how he used to feel what you do right now; how he used to be led, guided—reassured; how he’s doing what you do when you try to get him to calm down. 

“We won’t do this if you don’t want to,” he bends his knees up, letting you lean on it as he cages you in. 

But that’s the thing, you do want to—you’re just failing to see how this can be more for him than it is for you. That, and what if you get the position wrong? Can’t balance yourself properly? Lean into him too much and knock him out completely? 

“I do, it’s just…” you sigh, running your palms over his chest. You fail to meet his eyes. 

“If you’re shy now, I’ve seen it all before. And I always tell you, you taste de—” 

You hit him before you catch how he’s watching you, chuckling—tender and knowing. He takes your hand, kissing each of your fingertips. 

The fact that he’s being this patient, this considerate on what you want is a testament to his restraint; he has to know that you want this too, if the wet spot on his sweatpants is any indication from you. 

So, you peer back at him, smile growing wide before landing a small peck to the tip of his nose. 

He guides you when you stand, lips grazing your thighs as you let him pass through them. Then he leans back, neck supported by the edge of the couch as he tilts his head up. The moment your knees press into the cushion, dipping as you climb over him, he holds your ankles. 

It tickles when he kisses his way down to the arches of your feet, but it’s a nice companion—a temporary relief—to the heat rising in your belly.

You hold on to the back of the couch, readjusting your knees as you find the right position to sit back down. And when you figure it out, angling yourself until you’re settled right over him—the heat of you is pulsing. 

He looks dazed between your legs, staring straight into you—the see-through net hiding absolutely nothing. Pussy-whipped, as they say. 

You giggle as you stare down at his face, anticipation rushing to your cheeks; it shakes him out of his reverie, prompting him to look at you instead. His breaths are warm against your thighs but cool against your core, and when he trails his lips higher and higher until he reaches it, landing a kiss on the fabric separating you, you think your knees might give out. 

The sight of Gojo smirking while being sat on stirs something within you—the creeping realization of how much it turns you on. 

And he can tell, grabbing hold of your butt and squeezing the flesh, kneading. The fabric separating you is pushed to the side, giving him a clearer view of everything; he sighs then moans, low. 

But before he pushes you down, bringing you closer to his mouth, he smiles cheekily. 

“Best birthday gift, baby.” 

thank you notes: to @stellamancer bc the idea of col reader sitting on gojo's face came up in convo some time ago!! + @augustinewrites for supporting and enabling me ♡

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[the-witch-of-woods-beyond]

thinking about zoya, who was taught to pray to silent saints and abandoning that faith because she was abandoned first, watching a little mapmaker traipse around in golden gowns in the hallways of the palace where she carved out a home for herself, watching her laugh at the dinner table and sup from painted porcelain plates and wander along the edge of the lake as the sun sets itself to sleep, watching the people of ravka fall to their knees for a girl who can summon the sun and wields their only chance at salvation in two shaking hands and thinking: everyone believes in her but me.

and thinking about alina, who was raised on hunger and pain and greed and an ache in her bones that never went away, watching a girl with a storm for a soul saunter around with the air of someone who knows who they are and always will, watching people cower away when lightning flashes behind her eyes, watching the rare glimpses of the frightened girl who never got to grow up hiding beneath her skin, who cries and screams in silence with a fire brighter than the sun, and thinking: nobody believes in her but me.

[bookuce]

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it. 

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, and Alina is Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 10K

PART TEN

PART ELEVEN

Meeting parents was never fun. It was nerve-wracking, stressful, anxiety-inducing––any word you can think of that falls under that category, really. The time was winding down quickly for Alina to meet Josh's family, and she was frantically moving around the bathroom. Her hair decided not to cooperate with her, forcing her to put it up in a tight ponytail. It wasn’t what she envisioned, but it will do. 

Josh sat on the tub's edge, scrolling on his phone while he waited for his girlfriend to finish getting dressed. Just like Alina, he was full of anxiety about his family. Their reasons were different, though. While she was worried about his family's approval, he was concerned with how they would take the news of him relocating. It had been an active plan for several weeks, but he couldn't figure out how to bring it to their attention––until now. They'll take it fine, he thinks. He hopes. 

When Jon told them he and Trinity were moving to Orlando, they didn't put up much of a fuss. Then again, the twins spent plenty of time around that area during their FCW days. There were plenty of family and friends around there that could help them in their times of need. Atlanta, on the other hand, not so much. That didn't matter, though. Josh is a grown-ass man. He can handle himself.

Alina leans over the sink, her face near the mirror. She's lining her lips with her favorite brown lip liner, making sure her lips look full and even. There was a slight tremble in her hand as she traced along the natural lining of her lips. Nerves. "Lina," Josh says, looking up from his phone. "we gotta go." He informs her. They were supposed to have left about thirty minutes ago, but she kept backpedaling on what she should wear.

"I know." She says, finishing her makeup. She glances around the mess of makeup on the counter, looking for her gloss. "I just want to make sure..." 

"Lina." He calls again.

"I look good." she finishes, snatching up the lipgloss tube from the pile of lipsticks. She unscrews the cap and quickly slathers the product across her lips. Josh stands to his feet, slowly approaching the stress-filled woman before him. She stared at herself in the mirror, smoothing out her shirt and allowing her hands to travel over the front of her pants. He wraps his hands around her forearms, giving them a gentle squeeze. Her eyes would flicker to his dark ones, and they'd watch each other in the mirror. 

"You look good," He assures her. "Perfect, to be real." He corrects himself. Josh steps back, allowing his hands to skim her arms to her shoulders. He gives them three gentle squeezes before turning towards the bathroom door. "Let's go before you get me in trouble with my Mama." He informs her, making her turn around to look at him.

"Josh," She groans, nerves setting in for her again.

"Come on, honey." He says louder, ignoring her pleas. "We ain't got all night." She quickly follows after him, soft huffs of frustration leaving her lips. 

Was she ever this nervous about meeting Theo's parents? She tried to recall if she ever felt this amount of anxiety when she met them. Meeting them went relatively well. Then again, she knew enough information on them beforehand to prepare herself. Unfortunately, this was not the case with Josh. He didn't speak enough about them for her to learn who she was meeting, and because of that, she was terrified. Even when she would ask multiple times throughout the morning, he would answer shortly with little information. They're great people, he says. You have nothing to worry about, he tells her. 

Perhaps they were just like Jon and Josh: loud, goofy, and loving. Trinity never had any complaints, either. If she did, she never brought them to her attention. Then again, why would she? Alina and Josh were not in a relationship––their family issues were none of her business until now.

The drive to his parents' home was roughly thirty minutes. They made it two minutes before six, cutting close to dinner time. Alina stares up at the large house from the passenger seat. Her legs now felt like jelly, and she knew they wouldn't hold her up if she got out of this car. Was she being dramatic? Possibly. Whatever happens, tonight would set the tone for her relationship with him and his family forever. 

What if they don't like her? She's heard she can come off uppity at times, and she's been working on that. "Hey," Josh says, pulling her attention from the window. He searches her eyes for a moment before grabbing her hand. "They're going to love you; you know that, right?" He tells her. She watches him for a moment, a soft smile on her lips.

"Get out of my head." She whispers at him.

"You first." He replies. Josh presses a kiss to her hand before dropping it suddenly. "Now, come on, girl, I'm hungry. I ain’t had my Mama's cooking in months." He says, slapping the top of her left thigh. Alina would whine at the playful strike. He climbs out of the car, lightly jogging around to her side to open the door for her. She steps out of the vehicle, taking another deep breath as the realization of her meeting his parents settles in once more. She was now a couple of feet away from them, seconds away from saying, 'Hello, nice to meet you.'. There were multiple cars in the driveway, four Alina counted. 

They're going to love you, she tells herself. Just be yourself, and they'll love you. The passenger door closed behind her, and a warm hand slid into her own. Together, they approach the front door. Josh's left hand grabs the doorknob, twisting and pushing the door open. Warm white light and the aroma of food poured out of the opening. With one last glance at his girlfriend, Josh steps into the house. "Yo, yo, yo," Josh calls.

"Oh, I think that's Josh." A female voice says. "Joshua!" She calls, getting closer. 

"It's me," he replies. A small woman runs around the corner, her arms wide open for her son. Josh drops Alina's hand to fully embrace his mother, giving her the tightest hug possible. "Hey, Mama." He says against her shoulder. Alina takes a step back, clasping her hands tight in front of her while she waits for her turn to introduce herself. 

"My baby is home!" She exclaims, patting his back as she pulls back. Talisua instantly spots the eye injury, her hand going up to examine it. She knew not to question it. She would assume that her son was recovering from someone hitting him too hard in a match or segment Friday night. 

"Damn, she ain't say that to me," Jon says, walking by the hall. "She ain't even hug me." 

"That's because I'm her favorite." Josh jokes, earning a lip smack from his brother and a swat to the chest from his mother. Talisua turns her attention to Alina, glancing over the gorgeous woman standing behind her son. Alina gives a faint smile, unsure whether or not she should say hi or quietly wave. 

Josh notices that his mother has taken sight of Alina and looks over his right shoulder at her, a crooked smile on his lips. He reaches over to grab her hand, pulling her to his side. "Mama, this is my girlfriend, Alina," Josh says. 

Talisua's hands go to her hips as she takes in the woman standing behind her son. There was a hint of a smile on her lips as she peered down at her shoes and back up to her face. "So you're why I haven't seen my son in months?" She asks. The question was a playful opening, not to be mistaken as an attack. Alina glances over at Josh briefly before returning her gaze to Talisua.

"If I knew he hadn't been home, I would have sent him on his way," Alina replies, returning the smile she received. Both women turn their attention towards Josh, whose brows furrowed at the interaction. "He's been acting like he doesn't have his own house," Alina adds.

"He's always been clingy." His mother says, earning a laugh out of Alina. Josh would smack his lips at the two of them, watching as they talked about him. "He used to throw a fit when he couldn't be in my face." She tells her.

"Glad to know some things never change," Alina replies. Talisua links her arm with Alina's, pulling her away from Josh and down the hall to the dining room.

"Bruh, what?" Josh watches after the pair in confusion as they leave him in the foyer alone. He was happy his mother and girl clicked almost instantly––but like this? Oh, the deception.

"Go help the boys in the kitchen," Talisua calls out behind her. "You too, Jon!" She shouts towards the living room. Jon, whose feet were on the coffee table, a remote in hand, turns his attention towards his mom, catching a glimpse of her passing by the room. He'd suck his teeth at her command, shaking his head slightly as he stood to his feet. 

Josh steps into the living room's archway, his eyes finding those of his twin's. Jon rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head up at him. "Your drunk ass..." He says, laughing at his brother as he recalls last night's events. "Have I told you I loved you...!" He sings as he passes Josh, his cackles filling the house. "Boy, your freaky ass better not ever look at another tequila sunrise. You were trying to tear Lina up in the Uber home." He says, causing Josh to shove him forward into the dining room. 

Trinity, Talisua, and Alina peer over their shoulders at the commotion from the twins as they walk through the living room to the kitchen. "Y'all, don't start," Trinity exclaims.

"If you didn't know already, it takes a village to keep these Fatu men in check," Talisua says. Trinity sighs softly at the statement, shaking her head as she does so. "God thought I was well-equipped to handle all boys and make them like their daddy." Talisua looks over at Alina. "Do you have kids?" She asks.

Alina is quick to shake her head at the question. "Two younger brothers, though, so I do understand." She explains. She is the eldest of her siblings. Dealing with the antics of her brothers well-prepared her for this. "I don't pay them no mind anymore." She says, referring to Jon and Josh. 

In the kitchen, the Fatu men prepped dinner––er, somewhat. Sefa was seated at the kitchen island, quietly doom-scrolling on social media. Jeremiah was coming in from outside, a pan of meat in hand. Tonight's dinner was barbeque, something they tended to do often when their entire family was in the same house for once. It was a rare occurrence now that Sefa, Josh, and Jon were all on the road with the WWE. 

At the stove stood their father, Rikishi. He was checking on the mac and cheese, stirring so it wouldn't burn to the bottom of the pot. "Hey, Pops," Josh says, moving past his dad. He pats his back in passing, prompting his dad to look over his shoulder only briefly.

"Hey, son." He replies. "How are you?"

"Never better," Josh replies, leaning up against the counter. "What do you want me to do?" He asks, waiting for orders.

"Get out nine plates, silverware, and cups. Go set the table." He answers. Josh walks around his dad to the cabinets near the sink. He opens them, grabbing out eight plates. 

"Nine? Who else is coming?" Jon asks, prompting Josh to stop at the question. Who else was coming to dinner? Josh begins to count on his fingers everyone that is there right now. Yeah, he counted eight people. "Joe in town too and ain't tell no one?" Jon asks.

Rikishi is quiet for a little bit longer, turning off the stove. "I invited Málí." Josh slowly put his hands down, now watching the side of his father's head. 

"Málí, who?" He asks.

"You know, Málí. Tagaloa, Lílí?" 

"Lílí? She back in town?" Jon asks, glancing over at Josh. 

Málí Tagaloa was a name Josh hadn't heard in years, seventeen years to be exact. Málí and the Tagaloas were old family friends of the Fatus, neighbors in the first neighborhood they grew up in when they first moved to Pensacola. Málí and Josh had instantly clicked when they met as kids, attached at the hip from first grade through high school. Wherever Josh was, Málí was not far behind, and vice versa. People around them were confident they would end up together after high school. They were too––but things happened. Málí received a full-ride scholarship to her dream college, and any chances of them exploring the what-ifs and maybes of their almost relationship went up in smoke.

They lost contact when she went to college. Everything after that was history. Hearing that name after so many years, knowing he would be seeing an old friend any minute now while his girlfriend was in the other room, had scared Josh silent. 

"Yeah, she moved back home from Seattle last week. We ran into each other at the grocery store yesterday. I told her Josh was in town and asked if she wanted to come by for dinner tonight." Rikishi informs them. Josh turns to look at his twin brother. For once, Jon had nothing funny to say to his twin. They both had the same look of concern on their faces. "Perhaps the two of you can go out while you're here. You two always really liked each other––." Rikishi adds.

"That won't be happening," Josh says, shaking his head. 

"Why not?" Rikishi asks, turning to his son. "Good Samoan woman like that––." 

"My woman is in the other room," Josh explains. "You know that." Josh knew his mother updated his father about Alina yesterday. She was too excited about the potential of meeting someone Josh loved enough to bring home. Rikishi was doing what he knew best: how to insert himself in his sons' lives without their permission. Each time they caught on, he would pretend he had no clue what they were talking about––much like he is right now. 

Rikishi furrows his brows at the assumption; the thick black frame of his glasses lifts on his nose with the scrunch of it. "When did you get a girlfriend?" He asks. A look of irritation would flash across Josh’s face as he glanced at Jon briefly. 

"You so—." Josh stops himself from saying anything more, shaking his head. "Man, I can’t believe you’d try that with me." He lifts the plates he gathered from the counter. "You finna get me in trouble over some shit you said to this woman." He mutters angrily to himself as he exits the room. Rikishi turns to his other sons, his mouth agape in shock at Josh. Jon lifts his hands, shaking his head at the man. 

"No comment, bruh." He says, turning to make his way out of the kitchen behind his twin. Jon knew how his father got about them dating women. He had done the same thing to him and Trinity when they first got together. 

Josh's eyes focused on the dishware he held, not looking up once as he entered the dining room. "Josh, look who stopped by for dinner!" Oh, hell, he thought. He halts, his gaze lifting at the sight of the woman standing before him. 

Málí turns at the sound of Josh’s name, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of her old friend. Time has done them both well, but for her, Josh aged handsomely. Though his face had changed, his eyes had not. They seemed to hold the same youthfulness and innocence they had when they were younger. The grey in his beard accented his appearance perfectly, much like a garnish on a dish. She wouldn’t get into the rest of him, though––she had focused on his face and that blank stare he was giving her. After all these years, was he not happy to see her?

Málí had not aged a bit to Josh. She was like a blast from the past, a ghost of his younger days. From what he could tell, all those years away from Pensacola did the woman well. She surprisingly looks the same as she did when she left this place––not a single gray or wrinkle in sight. On the other hand, Josh showed signs of aging well with gray hairs and soft wrinkles. She looked great. That was all he would say on the subject of her. He had to remind himself that she was not brought here as his friend––but as a potential prospect for marriage by his father.

Jon stops behind him, his eyes wide at the sight of Málí. "Shit." He mutters to himself. Alina glances between the pair before her. Strange. "Lílí, what's up, girl!" Jon exclaims, trying to break up the noticeable tension in the room now. He moves by Josh, wrapping the old friend in a tight embrace. Behind Málí, Jon looked at Trinity, who silently asked about the woman her husband was hugging. He widened his eyes at her in response, hoping she'd understand what that meant. They’ll gossip about it like two old church ladies later.

"Long time no see, Jon! How have you been?" Málí asks, pulling back to look up at the tall man. He smiles down at her, his arms still loosely wrapped around her.

"I'm blessed, Uce. I can never complain." He turns the woman to face the two women seated at the dining table. Only one of them was paying attention to Jon and the woman. The other watched her boyfriend, who was paling by the second at the sight of the woman he had yet to take his eyes off. "Lílí, this is my wife Trinity. Trin, this is Lílí, an old family friend of ours." Trinity stands up––her hand extended to shake Lílí's. 

"Nice to meet you!" They exchange with each other with bright smiles.

Jon then turns to Alina, who is still watching Josh. "And this is Alina, Josh's girlfriend." Josh's gaze shifts from Málí's and to Alina at the introduction. They only watched each other briefly before Josh moved towards the table. He places the plates on the table, slowly putting them in their designated spots—Alina peers up at the woman, a forced smile on her lips. 

"Pleasure," Alina says with a nod. She doesn't offer her hand to the woman or stand to introduce herself. She turns her attention back to Josh, who now has his back to everyone.

"Joshua," Talisua calls out. Josh releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding, his eyes shut as he does so. Lord, give me the strength to get through this dinner. Forty minutes in, he was already ready to grab Alina and leave. He should do that anyway. He owed no one any explanation as to why he would head out, but if Josh had to, he would point fingers at the man who was in the room over. But for his mother, he will stay––no one else. Talisua hadn't seen him in a while, and Josh had yet to tell everyone his plans to move to Georgia. 

"Yes, ma'am?" Josh answers lowly.

"Are you not going to say hey to Málí?" She asks. He didn't want to. He really didn't want to. He could feel Alina staring at the back of his head, waiting for him to make the wrong move. She is still trying to figure out who this woman is to him. Jon mentioned that she was an old family friend, but what was with the stares? Josh looked like he had seen a ghost, and Jon also was behaving strangely. 

He wasn't trying to be rude––he didn't want to do this. His eyes pan to the wall as he slowly pivots to face Málí. He avoids Alina's intense gaze, his eyes locking with Jon's before the woman standing by him. A lump began to form in his throat, and no matter how hard he swallowed, it wouldn't go away. "What's up, Málí?" He croaks, tilting his head up slightly. Josh would sway from left to right, his hands slowly rubbing at his hips. 

The two old friends stare at each other for several moments before Lílí finally speaks up. "Hey, Josh." She says softly. "It's been a while." She adds with a slight smile. 

“Yeah,” He says, lowering his head slightly. “How have you been?” He asks, clasping his hands together in front of him. Málí takes a breath, nodding her head at the question.

“I’ve been better.” She chuckles. “What about you? You look good––healthy. You look healthy.” She corrects herself. Alina turns her attention to Jon, her brows gradually furrowing as she does so. He’d catch her gaze before dropping his head in embarrassment. He lifts his right hand to rub at the back of his neck. This dinner was already gearing up to be a mess of a situation, and they had no one but Rikishi to blame.

"Food's ready!" Rikishi exclaims, walking in with a bowl of mac and cheese. Behind him are Sefa and Jeremiah, both carrying food. One by one, they line the center of the table with dishes. 

Thank God, Josh thought, thankful for the interruption. Any much longer of that conversation, and he would have dug himself a hole with Alina. 

Little does he know. 

He looks off towards the table before grabbing his seat next to Alina. He pulls it out, dropping into the chair. Alina turns in her chair to face forward, her hands clasped tight in her lap. "Lílí, I hope you brought your appetite." He says gleefully. "Take that seat next to Joshua." 

Rikishi doesn't acknowledge the woman sitting to Josh's left as he takes his seat at the head of the table. "Trin," Jon says, still standing behind Josh. He points at the chair near his brother for his wife to sit in. Rikishi looks to Jon, catching a glare from the eldest twin. Jon doesn't say anything to cause a disturbance but shakes his head in disappointment. Whatever his father had going on was not about to disrupt this dinner. With no questions asked, Trinity stands to her feet, moving to sit in the empty chair next to Josh. Jon takes his seat by Alina, separating Málí, Josh, and her.

Josh turns to his girlfriend, who is intently staring at the table. Alina was never good at hiding her emotions––giving herself away with facial expressions or tones of voice. At that moment, Alina felt conflicted. Was she angry or sad? She wasn’t sure, but she was holding in tears. 

Alina wasn't trying to read into what was happening here, but with how everyone was acting suddenly and how Josh was staring at this Málí person, Alina could only assume this woman was an ex. The seating arrangement, her boyfriend avoiding eye contact with her––context clues. It is only a matter of time before she's searching for an exit from this dinner. 

"Lina, can you pass me the salt?" Sefa asks, forcing Alina to look up from the table. She would give him a tight grin and nod, reaching in front of her for the salt. She lifts it into the air, allowing Sefa to take it from her. "Thanks." 

"Welcome," She says quietly, her eyes scanning the table. She could feel Josh's large brown eyes on her, pleading with her to look at him, but she couldn't. The interaction between Sefa and Alina would prompt Rikishi to finally acknowledge someone other than their other guest for the evening. He looks at the woman seated near his son––his lips slightly parted as he thinks of something to say. 

"So, you're Joshua's girlfriend," Rikishi says, earning the couple's attention. "What is your name, sweetheart?" He asks. Josh leans forward slightly, his head tilted down at his father. He has one time to disrespect her, he thought. One snide remark and this dinner was over.

"Alina." She answers with a grin. "It's nice to meet you, Rikishi." The slump of her shoulders would vanish as she sat up straight for the conversation.

A grin matching Alina's would curl onto his lips at her. "Likewise." He answers with a single nod. "Alright, everyone, dig in." He says, looking around the table. Alina would relax into her seat again, the light in her eyes dimming once more now that she was not being spoken to again. He had moved on from talking to her and was now conducting the food traffic. "Pass me the chicken, please." He says to Jeremiah. 

"So, Alina, you work with the boys and Trin?" Talisua asks from the opposite end of the table than Rikishi. Alina looks at her with a smile, nodding her head. 

"I do! Coming up on three years here soon." She informs her.

"We celebrating?" Jon asks, nudging Alina in her side. She looks back at Jon, shaking her head. He smacks his lips at her answer, muttering words of persuasion to her, hoping Alina would change her mind. She knew he didn't want to celebrate the milestone––He just wanted a reason to party.

"Do you wrestle?" Rikishi asks.

"No, sir, I'm on the broadcast team." She answers, getting only a singular hum from the man. He says nothing else, returning to the meal in front of him. Slowly, Alina's eyes began to shift back to her plate. Was she reading into this too much, or did it seem like Rikishi didn't like her? Perhaps she was reading into it too much and still reeling from the nerves of meeting Josh's family, but then again, she was always good at reading people. He was coming off cold and disinterested in her, the opposite of how you should be with your son’s new girlfriend.

Alina wasn’t the only one who noticed his behavior. Silence fell upon the dining room––glances exchanged between siblings. "So, Lílí, how's your parents?" He asks, seguing back into Málí. He seemed more interested in what Málí had going on rather than the fact his son finally brought home a woman––and Josh didn’t like that.

"Yo, are you good?" Josh asks suddenly.

"Josh," Alina says, shaking her head.

"Nah." He dismisses her. "You've said no more than ten words to her all night. You've known she was coming since yesterday." He says. Rikishi looks up at his son, his brows furrowed in faux confusion. 

"Josh," Jon says now. 

"You know what you're doing, bruh––." He says, ignoring his brother. He points his finger at his father.

"Joshua," Talisua calls out now. His mother's stern tone was enough to silence the angry twin. "It's enough." The room became silent again, but no one resumed eating. The tension in the room was enough to steal the appetites of everyone present. Alina clasps her hands in her lap, her eyes falling to her plate again. 

What a weekend, she thought. Was there a full moon, mercury in retrograde, or something? Was she cursed? Is that what this was? A curse? She attempts to think of who she could have wronged in the past, but no one comes to mind. Well, unless karma works quickly in Tasha's favor for her,––wait, that could be it. "I apologize, son," Rikishi says, throwing his hands up.

"You apologizing to the wrong person." He says. "We can try this,” He motions a circle with his index finger. “again in a minute." He informs him, cueing his apology.

"That's not necessary––," Alina says, shaking her head.

"Like hell, it ain't," Josh almost shouts.

Alina twists her mouth to the side, becoming quiet again. For the second time in a span of three days, she was at the center of a fight. “I said it’s enough, Joshua.” His Mother says. She looks between her husband and son. “Both of you.” She points her index finger between the two men. Josh turns his glare towards the table. 

“So what’s new?” Jon says, trying to break up the tension in the room. “Anyone got anything they want to share with the class?” He asks, glancing around the table with a big smile. “Sefa?” He asks. Sefa stifles a laugh at Jon, pushing his food around his plate. What was happening wasn’t funny, but it was.

Trinity reaches around Alina and Josh and strikes Jon’s shoulder, startling the twin. He leans back, making eye contact with his wife. “Not the time.” She whispers at him. 

Under these circumstances, in this mood that he was in, Josh did not want to announce his departure from the state of Florida, but because Rikishi was with the shit, right now was the perfect time to do so. Josh peers up from the table, taking in the faces surrounding him. Beneath the table, Josh’s hands rubbed against each other slowly, a self-soothing mechanism of his. “I’m selling my house.” He announces, gaining everyone’s attention at the table. 

“You’re moving?” Talisua asks. Josh nods slightly, licking his lips. “Where?” Alina gazed at the side of Josh’s head, waiting for his words. She wasn’t aware that his family didn’t know about the move. This conversation should’ve been a private family matter that didn’t involve her.

“Atlanta.” He answers.

“Atlanta? What’s in Atlanta?” Rikishi asks. Josh hangs his head at the question, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Here he goes, he thought. Rikishi points his hand at Alina. “Her?” He adds. A chill would rush Alina’s body at his tone. Oh, she never stood a chance with this man.

“Me for the last year,” Josh answers, looking up at his father. Rikishi wanted to hear Josh say Alina was the reason for his relocation, which she was, but Josh was not going to give him that. “I’ve been in Atlanta more than I have been here. That’s home now. All the back and forth adds up––.” 

“Let me get this straight. The two of you have lived together for a year, but this is the first time we’ve heard of this girl?” Rikishi questions. “Does anyone not find that a bit strange?” He continued, lifting his hands as he spoke. Rikishi looked around the table at everyone, not receiving a response or reaction from a soul. Alina didn’t expect Josh to talk about her to anyone while they were still friends.

“Look at how you’re acting, bruh. You’re doing my girl like you did Trin when she first came around. You did this up until they got married.” He points out. Trin and Jon would smack their lips simultaneously at being brought up in the argument. “You ought to be lucky they even let bygones be bygones with your––.”

“Enough!” Talisua shouts the moment Josh starts to raise his voice again. “Solofa, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but it stops now. It’s the first time we see our son in months, and he is happy. Why are you trying to take that joy from him?” She asks. It was a question that Rikishi knew not to answer unless he wanted to sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. “And Joshua,” She calls, requesting his attention. Slowly, he looks up at her. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Josh knew he shouldn’t have said most of what he did or behaved how he did, but Rikishi crossed boundaries. The things he said were consequences of his father’s actions, and he could not bother to be sorry about it—at least to him, he couldn’t be. Only for Talisua, Josh was apologetic. She did not deserve to see them act like this, and how he acted was not how she raised him. “Sorry, mama.” He says quietly. She doesn’t answer him, her glare shifting from her son to her food. Josh looks away from her, his eyes finding his plate as well.

The room was quiet for the third time tonight, thanks to Rikishi and Josh. This dinner wasn’t supposed to go this way, but it did because Josh came strolling in with Alina. Rikishi would have been happy if Josh wouldn’t have brought her home. His plans of having his son’s long-lost best friend and almost lover come back into the fray instantly diminished because of this random girl his son brought home, whom he had no idea existed until yesterday. If Rikishi were happy, Josh would have been happy. If the two of them had been happy, Talisua would have been happy. All of this is because he brought Alina McLemore home. 

It was all her fault.

Alina was at the root of each issue, from Tasha and the wedding to this dinner. She spent the last twenty-four hours panicking about her boyfriend’s family’s approval and the prior twelve panicking about her appearance. All this meant so much to her, these last few days being the most important, only for her to be disliked and disregarded. 

Slowly, Alina stands to her feet, drawing attention to herself. “I’m sorry, excuse me.” She apologizes, stepping away from the table.

“Alina,” Josh calls, turning in his seat as she moves towards the dining room entryway. He turns in his seat to watch her walk, his eyes full of silent pleas for her not to be upset. It was only a matter of time before she went running, and Josh knew it was coming. The last few days hadn’t been kind to her, and just when she thought she was escaping it in Atlanta, issues seemed to have followed them here into his parents’ home in Pensacola. His plan had failed to take her mind off what happened this past weekend. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom. It’s fine.” She promises, vanishing down the hall before he can say anything else. Josh stares after her for a moment longer before turning his attention towards Jon. Their eyes locked with each other before the eldest twin started shaking his head at him.

“Just give her some space, Uce.” He tells Josh. As much as he didn’t want to, he knew Jon was right; Alina needed some space. He turns to face forward in his seat, a huff leaving his lips. This is some bullshit, he thought.

Alina enters the guest bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She moves over to the sink, placing her hands on the marble countertop. She leans her weight onto her arms, her eyes closing as she does so. “You’re not going to cry. You’re not going to cry.” She whispers, shaking her head at the sting that fills her eyes. “Think about your makeup.” She reminds herself, opening her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. “See, you look so pretty. You’re going to ruin that if you cry.” She says, encouraging herself with tears forming in her eyes. If only those words were helping.

A knock at the door disrupts her emotional mini-pep rally, causing her to go still at the sound. “Lina, you good, girl?” Trin says from the other side. “Josh sent me to check on you.”

“I’m fine.” She croaks, fighting against the lump forming in her throat. On the other side of the door, Trinity furrows her brows at the sound of her voice. Was she crying? It sounded like it. Trinity grabs the doorknob, attempting to twist it.

“Can I come in?” She asks.

“No,” She sniffs. “I’ll be out in a minute, I promise.” She tells her. “You can go back to dinner. Tell Josh I’m fine.” No sound would come from the other side of the door, but Alina knew Trinity was still there. “Please?” She pleads. 

“Okay.” She replies after several moments of silence. “Love you, girl.” She adds.

 Alina smiles at her words, a few tears escaping her eyes. “Love you too.” She replies. Yeah, she wasn’t going back out there––not like this. 

Trinity stepped away from the bathroom door, a sigh coming from her lips as she did so. She’d shake her head, bringing her index finger to her left temple. “Child…” She says to herself. Tonight was enough drama for the week for her––hell, maybe even for the month. Jon comes dashing around the corner, colliding with his wife. He was on his way to check on Alina because his brother was starting to get antsy. “Hey,” she breathes. 

Jon looks past her and down the hall towards the bathroom. “Y’all good?” He asks with a lifted eyebrow. “Where’s Lina?” He asks.

“She’s finishing up in the bathroom. She’s fine.” She says loud enough for Josh to hear in the other room. “Come here, though,” Trinity says, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the living room. Once in the room, she releases his arm, looking back to ensure no one is coming. “Who the fuck is that lady, and don’t lie to me.”

In all the years that she and Jon had been together, this Málí character has never been mentioned. “We grew up together,” Jon explains. “We lived next door to her family when we first moved here.” 

Jon planned to leave it at that, not wanting to explain the rest of the story. He pushes his hands into his pockets, looking beyond his short wife towards the hall. “And what else?” She asks, lowering her eyes at him. Her husband had a bad habit of avoiding eye contact when he was lying about something, a reason why he just chose not to lie, but this was his brother. Jon would remain silent for a few seconds longer, hoping she would just let it go. He knew she would not. “Babe.” She says sternly.

He would sigh softly, his shoulder slumping in defeat as he met his wife’s demanding gaze. “Her and Josh liked each other back in the day.” He confesses. “It didn’t go anywhere because Málí moved off for college, but everyone knew.” He finishes. In the same fashion that Jon’s shoulders dropped, Trinity’s would too. She lifts her hand to her nose, pinching the bridge of it. Málí was the original Alina. 

“Are you serious?” She asks, looking up at him. Jon confirms with a nod. “This is a hot ass mess.” She says.

Jon scoffs at her words. “Shit, you can say that again.”

In the dining room, Josh and Málí were alone. Jeremiah and Sefa clear the table of all the food while Talisua and Rikishi are outdoors, squabbling about what had transpired tonight. The family dinner was over now, thanks to their father and him. Josh’s leg bounced anxiously beneath the table as he impatiently waited for Alina to return. She had been gone for five minutes, and his brother and sister hadn’t returned yet. “She’s pretty,” Málí speaks, initiating the conversation between the two friends. Josh’s leg would stop bouncing at the sound of Màlí’s voice. He briefly glances at her from the corner of his eyes before returning his focus to the wall.

“Thank you.” He says.

“You’re welcome.” She says, turning to look at him. Lílí’s tongue danced behind her lips as she contemplated her following words. “You think she’s the one?” She asks, prompting Josh to look at her now. 

“I know it.” He replies.

“Good. A big-hearted man like you deserves only the best kind of love.” She says. Josh would scoff softly at her words, shaking his head. Málí smiles softly. “What?” She asks.

“You know why you were brought here, right? Man, that man was trying to set you up with me.” He says, pointing to the outdoors with a grin. It was now Málí’s turn to laugh, her eyes following his point out the window. 

“I know.” She admits, wiping the little grin off his face. Josh would turn his attention to his old friend again, now watching her with the same blank face as earlier. She would watch him back, her smile shrinking in size. “Honestly, part of me really thought that when your dad said you were coming to town and that you weren’t seeing someone, this was the Universe giving us a second chance.” She confesses. “But now that I’m here and see Joshua Fatu all grown-up and in love, I know that that is not true, and this was much-needed closure.” The more Málí spoke, the quieter Josh got. It wasn’t that he had nothing to say to her, but because he didn’t know what to say. Knowing her love for him never faltered despite spending several years apart with no contact racked his brain in a way Josh hadn’t felt in years. Suddenly, he was an eighteen-year-old boy looking at an eighteen-year-old woman again. First loves, first everything. But none of that mattered. Who he was then is not who he is now. 

“I probably could’ve reached out years ago.” She says.

“I could’ve too,” He says, not allowing her to take the blame for their time apart. “I’ve been in Seattle plenty of times throughout the years, and not once did I think to look you up.” He confesses. “My bad, Uce.”

Málí giggles at his apology. “It’s all good.” She assures him. “We cool now, though, right?” She asks. With a grin, Josh leans across the chair between them, his hand extended for their old handshake. With a grin just as big as his, Málí would effortlessly perform the handshake. To know neither of them forgot the greeting made them laugh. 

“Yeah, we’re cool.” 

“Damn, Alina still ain’t back?” Jon says, looking around the room. The pair, still united at the hand, would look up the couple that had entered the room. Trinity’s eyes would focus on joined hands before looking between the pair they belonged to. Josh’s smile would diminish at the mention of his girlfriend. For fifteen minutes, he’s forgotten all about her. Josh’s gaze shifted from his brother to his sister, who glared at him with crossed arms. 

“I thought you said she was good.” He says, dropping Málí’s hand finally. 

“Boy, that didn’t mean you can carry on!” Trinity shouts at him. Josh stands to his feet, moving past the couple. Trinity turns to her man, flexing her hands at him. “Ooh, I want to ring his neck.” She says to Jon. 

Josh makes his way down the hall towards the guest bathroom. “Lina.” He calls out, hoping she’ll answer him before he gets to it. No response would come from the other side of the door, but he could tell the light was on beneath it. “Baby.” He knocks at the door, his ear now pressed to it. When he hears nothing on the other side, he moves his hand down to the doorknob. He twists the handle, cracking the door just a little. “Alina, you good?” He asks. No response prompts him to open the door further, revealing an empty bathroom. He steps in, looking around the bathroom for her. “The fuck…” He whispers to himself. 

Josh comes out of the bathroom, looking up and down the hall. “Ay!” He calls out to his brother and sister. He would see their shadows before they came around the corners. “I thought y’all said she was in the bathroom.” He says, pointing down the hall.

“She was,” Trinity answers.

“She ain’t in there now,” Josh says, opening the door on the wall across from him. His hand skims the wall, hitting the light switch to see if she is inside. “Help me find her.” He tells them, fishing his phone from his back pocket. In three swipes, his thumb unlocks the phone, opens his contacts, and calls Alina’s phone. His phone would hover near his ear as he exited the room and marched down the hall to the next closed door. He was listening for the ring of her phone but heard nothing.

“I’m sorry, but the person you called––.” He ends the call and redials. 

“Lina.” He calls out once more. Still no answer.

“I’m sorry, but the person you––.” Josh ends the call abruptly, slipping his phone back into his pants pocket. He swears under his breath, pivoting in the room he stood in. 

“Uce, she’s not outside,” Jon says, stopping at the door. Josh furrows his brows, his face contorting in anger. He’d suck his teeth in response to him.

“Man––.” Josh starts, charging forward out of the room. He was about to give his old man a piece of his mind. Jon had other plans, though. He pushes his hand into his twin’s chest, slightly shoving him back. “Bruh, watch out.” He says, pushing his brother’s hand away.

“Hollering at that man ain’t going to do shit but make Mama mad. Just go and find Lina. I’ll tell Mama you got an emergency.” He tells him. Josh stands there for a moment, grimace still prominent on his features. “Go!” He exclaims at him, stepping to the side to let him exit. Josh would squeeze past his brother in the door frame, marching angrily towards the front of the house. 

                                          —––––––––––––

Alina was curled into a ball on the couch, her arms wound tight around her frame. The light from the television bounced off the walls and danced along her face, her eyes catching the light stunningly. She returned to Josh’s house about fifteen minutes ago via an Uber she ordered and has since turned her phone off. It didn’t take long for Josh to notice her absence, maybe about fifteen minutes down the road if she had to estimate––at least that’s when his calls started coming in. 

Between his father and this Málí woman, tonight was a lot. It was more than what she could handle at this time. She had spent the earlier hours of the day panicking about his family’s approval, trying to make sure she looked presentable, only for his father not to give her the time of day. At least his mother liked her, or it seemed like she did. Talisua probably thinks the poor girl is a drama queen because of the way she left the dinner. 

The front door opens and closes, followed by heavy footsteps, drawing Alina’s eyes towards the living room entryway. Josh was home. He comes around the corner, stopping in the archway at the sight of her. Josh spent twenty minutes driving around his parent’s neighborhood looking for her before eventually checking her location. When he discovered she was home, he raced all the way here. The couple exchanged brief stares at each other before Alina looked away, turning her attention back to the TV. Josh walks into the room, approaching the couch she is lying on. He leans down, snatching the remote off the table and turning off the TV. 

Silence replaces the ambient sounds of the television, prompting Alina to rise on the couch. Josh sits down next to her, laying his elbows against his knees. His head was low. His shoulders rise and fall with the heavy sigh he releases. “Why’d you leave?” He asks, his voice husky.

Alina watches him for a moment, pondering over her response to him. “I wasn’t wanted––.”

“I wanted you there.” He cuts her off. “I wanted you there.” Alina becomes quiet again, her eyes unblinking as she watches Josh’s back. “You’re always thinking about yourself, putting yourself first, and shit.” He says after several seconds of quietness. Alina’s eyes would venture off to the left while her brows furrowed in confusion at his words. Was he calling her selfish?

“Is that not what I’m supposed to do?” She asks, fixing her gaze on him again. He scoffs at her question, lifting his hands to push his fingers through dark coils upon his head.

“Are we not a team?” He asks, turning to look at her. “Teams communicate, right? So, if something is bothering you, we talk about it, right?” His leg angrily bounced while he watched her. “You abandon the team, and the team falls apart, right?” He says, his tone gradually growing. He was angry with her––rightfully so. She knew he would be when he found her and mentally prepared herself for all the shouting he’d do.

“Josh, I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted––.”

“I did for you!” He exclaims, turning to look at her. “You had me off in that damn room with an ex I knew nothing about. He’s sitting here pressing me day into the night, and you couldn’t sit through a family dinner? You had me out there fighting over you, but my pops being an asshole was the line?”

Slowly, Alina began to shake her head, lifting her left hand as she did so. “I didn’t ask you to do that.” She says, earning a laugh out of him. “I told you to leave.” He shakes his head, shifting to turn his whole body towards her.

“Man, you don’t get it, do you?” He asks her. “I stayed because I love you. Despite what you wanted, I stayed for you.” He points. “That is what you do for those you love, right? That was a sacrifice I was willing to make for the sake of our relationship because I want this,” He motions between the two of them. “to work. Love requires sacrifice, Lina. It requires effort.” He explains.

“I understand that––.” She begins.

“Shit, do you? Cause it doesn’t feel like it.” He admits, cutting her off for the third time tonight. Alina would furrow her brows at his question, his doubt baffling her. 

“Are you serious right now?” She asks. “Your father made it extremely clear where I stood with him!”

“Don’t nobody give a damn what he is talking about!” He says, raising his voice. Rikishi is known to be a bit controversial in his interactions with people. Josh was foolish to think he wouldn’t do that with him over Alina. He had hoped that his father would learn from his mistakes with Trinity and Jon, but that was not the case tonight. Same person, same old mistakes. 

“I do!” She says back in the same loud tone. “I care about your family’s approval! If they have to see me for holidays and birthdays, I don’t want to feel like I’m not supposed to be there!” Alina elaborates. It might’ve not meant anything to Josh, but it meant everything to her to have his family’s approval. Josh had already met her family; there was no avoiding it with how often he lingered around her home. The McLemores welcomed him into their family without any issues, objections, or shade. She was not expecting what she got today.

“Then why did you leave? That only made things worse!”

“I’m not staying where I’m not wanted!” She shouts back. “What’s not fucking clicking, Joshua?” Alina snaps her fingers in his face, making him lean back slightly. “You wanted me to sit there and watch him brush me off all night? Make me feel insecure?” She asks. “You wanted me to hear you shouting at him and upsetting your mother? Give them more reason to dislike me? They haven’t seen their son in months because he’s playing house with someone he wasn’t dating six months ago! ” Josh becomes silent, turning away from the woman next to him. He lifts his left hand to the bridge of his nose, gently pinching it. 

Alina would watch him for a moment longer, her eyes unblinking. “You wanted me to watch you stare at your ex the entire night?” Josh’s head snaps at that question, his brows furrowed in confusion. He sucks his teeth at the woman.

“Bruh, what?”

“The girl at dinner. She’s your ex, right? That’s why Trin and Jon had to switch up their seating arrangement. No one would say what was going on, but I was able to catch on.” Between how Josh and Jon were acting and the speed round questions Rikishi was asking her, it only made sense to Alina to assume she was an ex. You don’t move around people like that if they weren’t their ex. Alina gave Theo not even a second at the wedding despite his multiple attempts to talk to her. For the majority of the day, they were apart. The exes were two ships passing at night until he started floating too close to her. 

“She ain’t nothing to me.” He dismisses the assumption after several seconds of quiet.

“I’ve heard that before––,” Alina shrugs.

Oh, how the tables have turned in two days. What Josh was saying to her about Theo, she was now saying about him. Both accusations were untrue, but only one had a higher chance of being true. Where Alina had no contact with Theo, Josh did with Lílí––but he knew who he wanted, and the fact that she said those words infuriated him. He was not him. “Ay, ay, Lina? Don’t fucking compare me to that man. I mean that shit.” He says. “I ain’t nothing like him.” His name and Theo’s should never be in the same sentence, but it was thrown in there, all because of something out of his control. He wasn’t about to plead his case with her over Málí either. He has never given Alina a reason not to trust him––why would he now?

“You know what,” She breathes, “I don’t want to argue anymore, Josh,” She states, standing to her feet. “I’m going to bed.” She wasn’t about to listen to this. 

And there she goes, running away from her issues instead of facing them head-on. It was one of her greatest flaws and the thing about Alina that pissed Josh off the most. “Who said we’re done talking?” Josh asks, standing up to block her path.

“You don’t have to be done with shit, Josh, but I am.” She says, moving to the side. He would take another step to block her. Her eyes would find his chest––her lips twisted as she bit back acidic words. “Can you move?” She requests.

“Nope, we’re talking.” He says. No, you’re yelling, she thought. “I’ve spent two years chasing your selfish ass––.” Now, it was her turn to cut him off. Her hands go up in disbelief.  

“Selfish!? Really? Really?” She shouts. 

“Yeah, really!” He nods. “You got me embarrassing myself for you, trying to prove to you that I am worthy of your time––and you’re going to sit up here and compare me to a bitch that didn’t have the balls to tell you he wasn’t feeling you anymore? Huh?” She sidesteps him, only for him to block her way again. “All because your stupid ass Ex fucked around on your ass don’t mean I will.”

Alina takes a step back at his words, slightly tilting her head at him. “Mm,” She hums, taking a few more steps back. His last words cut through her like a blade. She didn’t like that. Well, damn. Tell me how you really feel, she thought. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.” She voices. She averts her eyes from the man, looking from left to right. “Things were a helluva lot peaceful when we were just friends.” She confesses.

Those words felt weird coming from her mouth, probably because she did not believe a single word she was saying. She loves this man who stands in front of her, loves him with every fiber of her being, but these last few days were too much for her to handle. They’d only had one day of peace in the three days they’d been home together, and she was exhausted. She was tired of crying. She was tired of feeling like she did something to deserve any energy she got from people. She’s done nothing. 

Josh’s shoulders would slump at her words––any anger that he had previously was now gone. He smacks his lips at her words, shaking his head. “Lina––.” He says, reaching to grab her hand. Alina slips out of his grasp, pulling her hand from his. She didn’t want him touching her.

“No,” She says, shaking her head. “I’m cool. We’re cool.” She assures him, stepping around him. He allowed her by this time. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight, get my stuff from your room in the morning, and I’m going to head out after. Save you from embarrassing yourself anymore.” 

Before Josh could say anything else, Alina had rushed from the living room, leaving the regret-filled man standing in the center of the room. Josh brings his hand to his mouth, clasping it tight over his mouth.

He needed to sit down. 

–––––––––––––––––––

A/N: Yay, new chapter! Who cheered! 🤭

🏷️ list: @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @headoftheetable @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @wanderingreigns @wrestlingprincess80 @siriuslycee @vebner37 @astridxxxxxx @alichesmi @tshepisho @scarlettnoir01 @brokenglassslippers @reignsboy19 @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @sisinever @truefant4sy @paigereeder @tbmotw @fearlesschimera @venusesworld @usoholic @sageispunk @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @issahyland @fandomphasess @evilli0s @xoxoneah

[marvelmusing]

Set In Stone

Part Two

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader

Summary: As the sun sets, your new life as a statue begins and you struggle to find your place in this strange and unfamiliar world. The more you learn, the less you understand, and the feelings you’re experiencing regarding Aleksander and Alina only adds to your confusion.

Warnings [18+]: smut, dub con, fingering, nudity, somnophilia, discussions of sex, mild violence towards the reader (physical and magical choking), angst, references to emotional manipulation with magic, object insertion, human to statue transformation, consumption of magical potions, very brief mentions of pregnancy, Aleksander and Alina have been alive for centuries and they don’t know how to have normal relationships

My Masterlist • Part One

As sleep fades from your mind, you turn your head and end up face to face with Alina. Her pale hair casts a soft halo over her features, the bright strands ruffled erratically by her slumber. A heart stopping smile spreads across her lips when her eyes meet yours.

“Good evening,” she whispers.

After scouring your surroundings, the plush pillows and soft sheets, you blink at her shyly.

“How did I end up in your bed?”

She brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingertips grazing over your cheek to trace along your jawline.

“You were fast asleep when you turned human again. I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you. Aleksander carried you to bed.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She beams at you, her hand snaking its way down your body before it settles on your bare mound. Heat spreads over your cheeks as you ask nervously, “Are you checking for stone?”

She shakes her head, her fingers slipping between your folds. Each stroke is casual and languid, as if she’s simply enjoying the feeling of your arousal building beneath her touch.

“You’ve been so good,” she coos dotingly with a rather adoring smile. “I think you deserve a reward. Don’t you agree, Sasha?”

Aleksander’s hand smoothes over your hip as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. The smile that touches his lips is softer, more tentative, yet he agrees immediately.

“I do.” His answer is low and raspy, his voice thick from sleep and it makes your stomach flip.

Alina’s thumb encircles your clit and you whimper at the sudden burst of pleasure thrumming beneath your skin. It spreads through your muscles, soaking deep into your bones until you’re shaking with the need for more.

Their voices are low as they murmur encouragements and praises that make your cheeks burn, heat diving down to where your pulse is pounding. After the last two days of being edged and toyed with, your nerves are fraught.

The pressure of Alina’s thumb remains steadfast, confident circles that make you writhe between them both. In a direct contrast, Aleksander’s fingertips are deceptively light as they dance over your bare body. They leave you aching for more and less at the same time, which has you approaching your climax at a frightening rate.

Even after you’ve come undone over her fingers, the shaking doesn’t stop and your heart continues to pound as you attempt to catch your breath. Overwhelmed, you close your eyes and press your head back into the pillow beneath you. Before you even realise it, you’re thinking of Alina wrapping her arms around you while Aleksander strokes your sides.

Emotion blooms heavily in your throat as you realise how much you want to be held by them both. The urge makes your chest ache, but the thought of asking your captors for cuddles makes you feel ridiculous. Zoya’s words immediately spring to mind. You’re too soft for them. Much to your dismay, hot tears begin to slide down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand to quickly hide your tears and prevent any further embarrassment. Alina curls her fingers around your wrist, halting your movement, which allows your tears to fall in earnest.

“Whatever for?”

For a brief moment, you want to admit how much you want them both to care for you, and tell her about the doubts Zoya had placed in your mind. But you bite your tongue.

Zoya might not have given you the warmest welcome, but you don’t want her to get into trouble. Not to mention that you feel insane for feeling so much for them in such a small space of time. You shouldn’t feel anything for them besides anger and hatred for what they’ve done to you.

“Nothing,” you concede weakly. “It’s nothing.”

Alina tightens her grip on you.

“Don’t lie to us.”

Her voice isn’t overly stern, yet her eyes are your downfall and you relent quickly at the sight of them so fixated on your tears.

“Zoya said I’m too soft for you, and I’m scared she’s right.”

To hide from their reaction, you close your eyes. Until Aleksander says,

“Alina used to cry after sex.”

Shocked, you look up at Alina. Her head turns quickly to direct an accusatory look at her husband.

“Aleksander!” Each syllable is drawn out with mock fury and she swats at his bicep in retaliation. He ducks his head, attempting to make himself a smaller target.

“You did,” he protests with a playful smile which softens as he adds, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She clasps her hands in her lap, appearing shy for the first time since you met. Her gaze moves up to you from the ring on her finger - a polished piece of black onyx simmering in the candlelight.

“Aleksander was my first,” she admits.

Her eyes flicker up to look at him, a fond smile spreading over her lips when their eyes meet. It must have been centuries since they first met, yet in this moment you can see how they must have been when they first fell for each other. It warms your heart, yet there’s an ache of longing there once again.

Alina ducks her head down, capturing your lips with hers which catches you completely unawares. A small sound of surprise hums in your the throat, which soon dissolves into a quiet moan of pleasure as the ache in your chest eases. She cups your cheeks, her hands a soothing balm to the distress that had been burrowing its way into you.

She settles on top of you, pushing you firmly onto the bed, and you grind your hips upwards mindlessly in search of some friction. She breathes out a soft laugh, her smile widening which she sees your lips chasing hers.

A shocked little “oh!” escapes you when she slips a finger inside you which she mimics teasingly.

“I think you can give me another one. Can’t you, my little statue?”

Halfway through shaking your head, your body tenses with the force of nearing another climax. Each muscle in your legs quivers and you dig your heels into the plush mattress as you lose control over your body. The pleasure makes you shake even more than before, your chest heaving rapidly.

“You really are a work of art,” Alina murmurs appraisingly, her fingers dancing up your bare body. Unable to acknowledge her words, you keep your eyes closed as Aleksander tilts your head backwards, revealing your neck for him to kiss. His teeth drag over your pulse point and you moan softly.

Then Alina slips her arms around your waist, pulling you against her chest - away from Aleksander’s lips.

“Don’t damage her, Sasha.”

He grips onto your hips, tugging gently in an attempt at dislodging you from Alina’s hold as he argues,

“She’s my statue.”

“But I made her.”

An aroused little gasp slips from your lips, which draws their attention back onto you. They both grin. Alina strokes your cheek fondly.

“Do you like it when we fight over you?”

“A little,” you admit shyly.

They both laugh, appearing to settle on a compromise as they both begin to kiss you lazily. When Alina claims your mouth, her husband nibbles along your pulse point. Then they trade places. Aleksander sucks on your lower lip, while his wife digs her teeth into the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

There is barely a moment between each kiss for you to recover. It leaves you breathless.

“What kind of Grisha do you think you are?” Aleksander murmurs against your lips. That makes you withdraw slightly, though they don’t let you go far.

“I- I told you, I’m not Grisha,” you insist. “I’m not powerful like the two of you, or beautiful like the other statues.”

Alina sighs heavily but Aleksander smiles at his wife.

“Now you know how I felt about you.”

“I wasn’t this bad.”

“You were worse.”

Their discussion of you - and your non existent power - has nerves settling in your stomach and you gnaw on your lower lip in agitation. What will they do when they figure out that you’re nothing special? They won’t want you anymore. Aleksander draws you into his lap.

“Don’t worry yourself, my gem. Alina has always had a shorter temper than myself.” That makes her scoff lightly, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation at her husband. “Even after a few hundred years, she struggles with the art of patience. But I can wait. Reveal yourself whenever you are ready.”

Alina gives you a soft smile. It’s clear she agrees with Aleksander’s sentiments, but that doesn’t fully ease your anxiety. After all, you don’t understand what they want from you. Surely, if you had some sort of power it would have revealed itself already.

The covers slip from Alina’s body as she stretches, yawning rather adorably. Then you notice the scar on her left shoulder. It’s small, but gnarly, stained black from some sort of dark magic.

Hesitantly, you brush the knuckle of your index finger against the ridge of roughly healed skin. She smiles softly, before explaining in a low voice,

“A gift from the Darkling.”

The sound of Aleksander’s former title makes you glance at him quickly. A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he leans over to kiss his wife, which has your stomach flipping with surprise. You had thought neither of them would want to be reminded of when they were enemies - though it seems to be quite the opposite.

They both grin into the kiss, Alina’s teeth nipping at his lower lip during a brief interlude when they part for air. In response, Aleksander curls his fingers around her throat, squeezing the vulnerable area against his large palm.

A rather dreamy sigh escapes you, as you stare in admiration of them both looking so breathtakingly beautiful. The sound attracts their attention and they turn to look at you. Alina leans over to you, kissing you softly before she slips from her husband’s grasp.

Aleksander props himself up against the headboard, his bicep flexing as he curls his arm behind his head. The two of you watch Alina as she moves towards the wardrobe at the side of the room. The dimples at her hips crease as she shifts her weight from side to side, considering the clothing hanging in front of her.

She turns with a white lace robe draped over her arm and heads back towards the bed. She places it over your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll call for Genya to keep you company today.”

Self conscious, you fidget with the hem of the robe, drawing it closer to yourself as you lower your gaze.

“You don’t need to bother her. I’d be alright by myself.”

Aleksander reaches for you now, fingers grazing the side of your neck before they curl around the nape. He kisses you leisurely, his lips moving slowly as he steals each second of precious air from your lungs. When he finally withdraws, your chest aches as you gasp in a series of shuddering breaths.

“You aren’t a bother,” he insists. Then he kisses you again.

Hands curled into weak fists, you press them against his chest, unable to figure out if you want to push him away so that you can breathe or bring him closer to drown yourself in him. Bright sparks dance beneath your eyelids as he pulls away and your head spins as oxygen floods your system.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Genya grins widely when she sees you standing outside Aleksander and Alina’s door.

“I take it you’ve had a good night so far?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you duck your head bashfully to escape her gaze as she loops her arm around yours. The two of you walk side by side through the corridors, moonbeams and flickering candles lighting your way.

Genya pauses when you reach a set of double doors. She pushes them open and immediately a rush of humidity hits your face. A shudder rolls through your body, as the lingering cold inside you flees from the heat. There’s a light sheen of sweat glossing over your skin as you enter the room, squinting in the bright moonlight that spills from the large window carved into the ceiling.

In the centre of the room, there’s a pool which seems to be the main source of heat. Steam curls over the surface of the water and you look at the people lounging around the room.

“Most of the statues spend their nights here,” Genya tells you.

“Doing what?”

“Whatever you want. Relaxing. Sleeping. Pampering one another.”

The sight of one particular group catches your attention immediately. Three women and one man. They are seated amongst a mound of velvet cushions and plush fabrics. All four of them are in varying stages of undress. The woman in the middle is wearing a sheer red robe, her bare body openly on display. Her eyes lock on yours and recognition dawns on you.

“Is that Zoya?”

Genya nods.

“Beside her are Nadia and Marie.”

The two women are fawning over Zoya, their hands wandering over her body. The man is draped between her thighs, his head ducked down as he licks leisurely at her cunt. It makes your core tighten.

“And…?”

Genya scoffs lightly in amusement when she sees where your gaze has stopped.

“The one between her legs is Nikolai.”

She takes your hand in hers, tugging you towards the side of the room.

“Here,” she says. “Let’s clean you up a little.”

The two of you find a quiet corner where you can sit undisturbed. There’s a number of smaller pools, that remind you of rock pools, where water bubbles cheerfully.

Genya finds a seat, settling down on a velvet bench that sits low to the ground. She scoops up a handful of water, splashing it over her face. Her fingers smooth across her cheeks, droplets clinging to her eyebrows and lashes. When she sees you watching her, a smile spreads across her face.

She dips her hands back into the water, shaking them lightly before she removes them and sweeps her wet hands over your face. The moisture makes your nose crinkle and Genya laughs softly.

“This water is enchanted.” You hum questioningly and Genya explains, “Being turned into stone so often takes a toll on our bodies. The water helps our muscles and joints stay healthy.”

She tilts her head, eyes tracing down your body while you consider this information.

“Should we clean off your legs?”

Looking down at your thighs, heat rushes through your body as you realise that the mess of your arousal has dried on your skin.

“I can do it, thank you.”

“Sit at the edge of the pool,” she suggests. A frown creases at your brows and she smirks with mischief in her eyes. “Zoya will be able to see you properly there.”

The temptation is too much to resist. It’s hard not to be aware of the eyes on you, as you sit down at the edge of the pool. But, after spending the beginning of the night with Aleksander and Alina, you feel a little thrill of pride as you lower your calves into the warm water, scooping up handfuls to clean your thighs.

The water is soothing against your skin, a comforting caress that clears away the evidence of your earlier climax.

At the far end of the room, a door opens and Alina steps inside. Almost everyone turns to look at her, as her eyes scour over the sea of faces until she lands on you. Unable to stop yourself, you smile and glance down at your bare toes, splashing them in the water beneath you.

She walks casually around the pool, her eyes rarely straying from you. When she reaches where you’re sitting, you tilt your head back to look up at her.

Alina sits down beside you, taking hold of your chin so that she can press a chaste kiss to your lips in greeting. A shy smile quirks at the corner of your mouth.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, your legs hanging down in the water as you watch the other statues lounging beside the pool. Then she turns to ask you,

“Has Genya told you why I make my statues?” With a frown, you shake your head. “Aleksander and I aren’t complete together. There’s a missing piece - another person to balance us.” She glances around the room, gesturing to all the people relaxing in the heat. “Every one of my statues is someone who I hoped might have been the one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aleksander’s mother was a prophet. She told him that our future partner will be a powerful Grisha. Someone capable of breaking my statue spell.”

Immediately, you think of the book you found in the library and attempt to remember how the spell could be broken. Before you make any progress in your recollection, you’re distracted by thoughts of how Aleksander had pressed you against the bookcase, leaving the hint of a kiss on your lips.

A flustered heat spreads over your cheeks and you look down shyly at your knees, hoping she can’t tell you’re thinking such thoughts about her husband. She traces her fingertips over your shoulder, drawing little patterns on your skin.

“The spell I placed on you is exceptionally hard to break. Do you know why?” You shake your head. She smiles. “Because you love me - and you like being my statue.”

Caught off guard, you’re painfully aware of your heart pounding in your chest, hot blood rushing to your cheeks and down your neck in response to her words. The feelings you have for her are still difficult to decipher and you’re mortified at her brazen acknowledgement of them.

She looks down at her knees, her feet swaying lightly in the water.

“All my statues love me - I created them - they can’t help it. That’s why you haven’t ever considered hurting me, even after what I’ve done to you. But the love you feel for me now… it isn’t real.”

Stunned by her words, you can only stare with parted lips. Something sharp twists in your chest. Strangely enough, it feels a lot like betrayal. The blossom of your feelings has been plucked, its petals tattered by the storm of emotion currently threatening to choke you.

She smiles sadly, reaching out to stroke your cheek. The ache inside you deepens at her touch. A tear spills down from your eye and you shake your head which causes her to drop her hand.

“No.” The word wavers on its way out. She tilts her head, frowning slightly as she tries to read your current emotions. It takes a moment for you to settle on one in particular - anger. “You don’t get to take my entire body away from me and then tell me what I can and can’t feel for you.” She leans closer, her hands reaching to comfort you and you recoil backwards. “Don't touch me.”

Alina freezes and for a brief moment you think she looks hurt. Guilt stings at your chest. Then her brows furrow together, her features darkening.

“I don’t appreciate that tone.”

Usually, you would be terrified of angering her, but in this moment you’re too upset to care. Tears blur your vision as you pull your legs from the water.

“Well, I don’t appreciate being a plaything to amuse you until someone better comes along.”

Her eyes widen, her expression dropping as you stand. Her voice is a near whisper that you barely hear as you hurry away.

“That’s not-”

The idea of your feelings towards them being artificial, something created by Alina’s magic, has you feeling foolish and eager to get away. They haven’t allowed you a moment alone since your second transformation into a statue and the heat that had initially been comforting is now strangling you.

A shiver runs over your wet skin as you walk through the corridors mindlessly by yourself, with no destination planned. Genya’s tour yesterday hadn’t been extensive and you soon find yourself in an unfamiliar area that looks like an entry hall.

As you walk towards the large oak door, your heart rate quickens in anticipation. There isn’t much hope in your thoughts when you reach for the handle, twisting it cautiously.

The door opens.

Stunned, you look back into the house, almost expecting someone to appear and stop you from leaving. But there’s no one there. From where you’re standing the house is silent, aside from the frantic beat of your heart.

For a moment, you hesitate. Your feet are bare. You’re only wearing a thin robe. But you aren’t escaping. A short walk in the gardens might help you clear your head.

The paths are winding, the route concealed by the tall bushes that line each side of the walkway. It’s almost like a maze. The thought of wandering until sunrise makes you worry. Would Aleksander and Alina look for you?

The sight of someone in the corner of your vision makes you halt in your tracks, stepping back behind a bush out of sight.

“You’re new,” she says.

Her accent isn’t the refined Old Ravkan that you’ve grown accustomed to hearing in the house. Rather naively, you stay still in the hopes of losing her attention.

“I can see you, little miss.” She laughs bluntly. “Not to mention that I can hear your heartbeat.”

Stepping forwards, you move away from your hiding spot.

“You’re a heartrender.”

She tilts her head, studying you for a long moment with her pale blue eyes before she nods.

“What’s your name?”

Genya had told you that only the statues that fall out of favour with Aleksander and Alina end up in the gardens. Even with your feelings hurt, you don’t want either of them to be upset with you. As a result, associating with someone in the gardens might not be the best idea. After some hesitation, you give her your name. She nods in acknowledgement.

“I’m Nina.”

“Why are you out here?”

She grins.

“I could ask you the same thing, little miss.” There’s a teasing spark in her eyes and you lower your gaze bashfully. When you don’t speak, continuing to wait for an answer, she sighs and explains,

“I fell in love. Aleksander didn’t approve.”

“What happened?”

She turns her head and you follow her gaze as it lands on a rather weathered statue in the centre of the neatly cropped lawn. The man is sitting on the ground, his expression fond as he looks at no one. Then it dawns on you.

“You’re one of Alina’s statues.”

She nods.

“As my punishment, Aleksander turned Matthias into stone. When one of us is a statue, the other is human.”

You can’t imagine how upsetting it must be, being separated from the person you love like this. Never able to talk to them, or hold them again. Yet so close. From what Genya has told you, Aleksander and Alina seem to care for their statues. But Alina’s admission has made you wary of your thought regarding them.

“I’d get back to the house if I were you,” Nina advises you. “Before they realise you’re missing. You don’t seem like the type to misbehave.”

Immediately, you shake your head at the thought of getting into trouble with Aleksander and Alina.

“I don’t know the way back.”

Nina raises a brow at you. For a moment, you feel like a lost little lamb. Helpless. Then she points down a pathway.

“Keep following that path until you reach the fountain. Walk through the rose garden, then you should be able to see the house from there.”

“Thank you.”

She shrugs.

“Don’t mention it.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Lost in thought, you wander aimlessly through the house. As you’re turning a corner, Aleksander appears out of nowhere, pinning you to the wall. His hand curls around your throat.

“You’ve upset my wife.” His words are cold and calm which sends a shiver down your spine.

“She upset me,” you protest, gasping in his hold as tears fill your eyes. “But neither of you care about that. You don’t care about me.”

“We don’t care?” he repeats slowly, as if testing the sound of the words on his tongue. Panic claws at you when you realise the skin beneath his palm is turning to stone. “You think we allow any of the others into our bed?”

Unable to stop yourself, you remark,

“What about Zoya?”

His anger sharpens, his grip tightening as he tilts his head aside to watch intently while your airway becomes restricted by marble.

“I have known Zoya for centuries. She helped me stave off the loneliness until I met my Alina.” With each word, his magic creeps over your skin, hardening your throat into marble. Dots swim over your vision, as breathing becomes even more difficult. “I don’t care which one of you started this petty rivalry but it ends now. You want to take Zoya’s place? Earn it. Is that understood?”

Only once you’ve nodded weakly does he finally release you. Without the pressure of his hand to keep you upright, you collapse. Instantly, you place a hand to your throat, rubbing the tender skin there as you heave in a flurry of shaky breaths. Teary-eyed, you stare up at him. If he regrets his actions, you don’t see it in his expression.

He strokes your cheek, ignoring how you flinch.

“I expect an apology before sunrise.”

There’s a hoarseness to your throat when you attempt to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you state shakily.

He grips your chin, tilting your head back to meet his darkened eyes.

“Not to me.”

A faint nod is all you’re capable of, but it seems to satisfy him and he strides away down the corridor.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you stumble back to your room. The only emotion you’re capable of feeling is utterly distraught, the shattered pieces of your heart digging into your lungs.

Once you reach the safety of your room, you close the door, slumping weakly against it as you tuck your thighs against your chest so that you can hide your face between your knees.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Genya. She smiles gently.

“Aleksander sent me. Are you alright?”

Immediately, you crumble in on yourself, bursting into tears. She wraps her arms around you, drawing you close as she steps into your room.

“I know,” she murmurs sympathetically as she strokes your hair. “He scared you - didn’t he?”

Genya guides you over towards the bed, setting the two of you down as you continue to cling onto her. She lets you sob, only stepping in occasionally when you forget to breathe. In this moment, you are so upset that you forget how self-conscious her beauty makes you, even when she wipes your runny nose until the skin is raw.

It isn’t long before you’re exhausted by your emotions.

She lowers your head onto her lap, so that she can smooth over your hair soothingly. The tears fall slower now, sliding heavily down your face. The two of you remain silent for a long time, the only sound being your tearful sniffles as you slowly begin to calm yourself.

“Genya?” She hums softly, encouraging you to continue. “How old are you?”

There’s a pause.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“We don’t really keep track of the days here,” she says lightly. “I used to count the summers, but gave up after so long. It doesn’t really matter to us.” Fresh tears bloom in your eyes, as you realise you are trapped here forever. Nothing can take you away from them, not even old age.

After a discrete sniffle, you ask,

“Were you one of the first ones?”

Her hand halts in its petting.

“What makes you think that?”

“They trust you.”

She pauses, before admitting,

“I was Aleksander’s first statue.”

At the mention of his name, you sit up to face her.

“Aleksander’s?”

She nods, stroking your cheek gently as she sweeps the tear-soaked hair from your face. You frown.

“But, doesn’t that mean you should be a statue now - at night?”

She shakes her head.

“As a wedding gift for Alina, he removed his magic from me, so that Alina could have me as hers. He did the same to Zoya.”

“Zoya?”

Saying her name, even in a whisper, makes you feel as though Aleksander and Alina are about to descend upon you for a scolding.

“Alina and I were friends almost instantly when she arrived here. Zoya has always been possessive - I think she and Alina are too alike - they bickered and fought from the moment they met. Belonging to Alina is a gift for me, but it’s a punishment for Zoya.”

Genya shuffles across the bed, until her feet are touching the ground. Then she tilts her head, studying your face.

“It’s almost time for dinner. Why don’t we freshen you up and head downstairs?”

The thought of sitting at the dinner table, in front of Aleksander and Alina and all the other statues, makes you want to hide in the wardrobe or under the bed.

“I’m not hungry.”

A light frown crinkles at her brows.

“They won’t be happy if you skip a meal,” she warns you. Something must shift in your expression, because she softens her tone as she adds, “After dinner, you could speak to Alina about what happened between you.”

“I don’t want to, Genya,” you protest pitifully, your voice wavering as you wipe at your tearstained cheeks with agitation. “They hate me.”

“They don’t.”

Staring down at your hands, you admit rather brokenly,

“I think they do.”

She places a hand over yours, cupping your cheek with her other hand to guide your eyes upwards so that they meet hers.

“Neither of them are truly angry with you - maybe displeased but not angry. Trust me. If they were, we wouldn’t be talking like this.”

“I’d be out in the garden.”

She hums quietly, not an outright agreement but you know you’re right.

“Come on, let me clean you up. How did your feet end up so dirty?”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Aleksander’s expression is sombre as he enters the dining room. His eyes scan over each person at the table, and you avert your gaze when he gets to you. He sits down at the head of the table, the same seat as the other morning when you had eaten breakfast in his lap.

Everyone seems to be waiting for him to speak.

He adjusts the position of his cutlery, straightening the knife closest to his plate. Then he looks up directly at you.

“Alina won’t be joining us for dinner this evening.”

You feel sick to your stomach.

Unable to focus on anything but the storm of emotions swarming in your chest, you push your chair backwards, uncaring towards the scraping sound that attracts everyone’s attention.

Genya murmurs your name quietly, a comfort or a warning - you don’t know. Her hand tugs lightly on your dress, but you pull away easily, shaking your head to dismiss her sympathy. You don’t deserve it.

The weight of Aleksander’s eyes presses on you all the way to the doorway. You still feel watched, as you walk through the winding corridors towards their wing of the house.

Once you reach their door, nerves twist at your stomach but you force yourself to knock. The silence afterwards has you wringing your hands together. The sound of Alina’s voice makes your heart skip.

“Leave me be, Sasha.”

Drawing together your courage, you call out,

“Alina? Can I come in?”

There’s a pause. Then the door unlocks with a quiet click. The handle creaks lightly, before it glides open.

She’s sitting on their bed, wearing one of Aleksander’s shirts. Her arms are wrapped tightly around a velvet cushion and there’s twist in your chest when you realise it’s the same cushion she placed beneath your head when you were in your statue form.

Her eyes are lined with red, and guilt stirs in your stomach. She uncrosses her arms as you approach the bed. Some of the tension in your body eases when she pats the spot beside her rather amicably. Relief softens the frown creasing between your brows. She doesn’t seem displeased to see you.

When you sit down cautiously, she strokes her hand over your cheek.

“You look like you’ve been crying yourself sick,” she observes, her lips puckered into a sympathetic pout. Her concern makes your tears return.

“Alina,” you whisper brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

She regards you solemnly, her expression unreadable.

“Did Aleksander tell you to come apologise?”

Her question catches you off guard.

“I-” The thought of lying to her makes your throat tighten. The memory of Aleksander’s hand squeezing there causes a phantom ache. “He did, but I really am sorry. I don’t know why I acted like that.”

“You got upset.”

“Yes. I did,” you whisper shamefully, lowering your head to avoid her gaze.

She hooks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head backwards so that she can meet your eyes.

“I understand,” she concedes. “I’m sorry too.”

You blink at her, confused.

“Aleksander was the first person to want me,” she says quietly, her thumb circling your lower lip. “It’s been such a long time, I will admit, I forgot how much it hurt thinking I was unwanted. But I saw it in your eyes, and it… surprised me.”

She tilts her head, considering her next words.

“Most of my statues don’t care that their feelings were created by my magic.” She traces over your cheek with her fingertips, stroking along your hairline tenderly. “You’ve fallen a lot harder than the rest of them.”

Embarrassment warms your cheeks. It’s ridiculous, falling for her so quickly, especially after everything she’s done to you.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiles and your stomach flips at how painfully beautiful she looks with mirth glistening in her eyes.

“Don’t be.”

There’s a small pause.

“Genya said that belonging to you is a gift,” you state. Alina hums in confirmation. Her eyes flicker between yours as she acknowledges your unspoken question.

“Aleksander made Genya his statue to keep her safe from her parents. Even though she loves him like a brother, being tied to such a powerful man always made her somewhat uncomfortable. Becoming mine freed her.”

That makes you pause, titling your head as you think. Their displays of affection might be unconventional, but Aleksander and Alina do seem to care for their statues.

“I should have listened to what you were trying to tell me.”

She shakes her head.

“I’ve explained it so many times - to almost all the newest statues - I don’t know why I got it wrong this time.”

“How can I make it up to you?” you ask shyly. “I’ll do anything.”

She blinks hopefully at you.

“Anything?” There’s only a brief moment of hesitation, before you nod. “Take your dress off.”

Her request doesn’t surprise you, though you still feel shy as you slip the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing the fabric over your hips before you drop it to the floor. She smiles widely, playing with a strand of your hair before sweeping it behind your ear.

“I’ve been thinking of a place for you, in the house.”

The thought of being moved out of their bedroom so quickly makes your stomach twist. Nervously, you fidget with your fingers.

“You have?”

She nods, tilting her head to gesture towards the centre of the room.

“Do you see that table?”

Hope enters your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper.

She places her hands on your hips, steering you backwards until your lower back hits the edge of the table. Slowly, she slides her hands beneath the crook of each of your knees, lifting you up onto the furniture. The surface is cold against your bare skin and a shudder rolls through you.

“Stay here,” she commands softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

She moves over to the side of the room, stooping down to open a cabinet and retrieve a bottle of dark liquid. After lifting the stopper, she pours a glassful and brings it over to you. With unsteady hands, you hold onto the glass, staring down at the contents.

“Drink it all.”

Not wanting to be seen as disobedient, you take a plentiful gulp before asking your question.

“What is it?”

She waits until you’ve swallowed another mouthful. The sharp fruit flavour quickly softens as it slides down your throat and the tension leaves your shoulders as you lick over your lips.

“It should help relax your muscles.” She smirks deviously. “So, I can push you into whatever position I want.”

The sweet taste lingers heavily on your tongue.

“What position are you thinking of?”

She takes the glass from you, licking the rim at the spot where your mouth had been. Arousal burns in your core. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, drinking in the sight of you growing so flustered and she grins.

She pushes you back further, your feet swinging off the floor, and your stomach flips at the sudden sense of vulnerability. Then she keeps pushing, lowering you down onto your back so that you’re lying in the centre of the table. A shiver runs over your skin when the cool surface meets your bare body.

Alina hooks her hands beneath your legs, lifting them up onto the table. She bends them, until your knees are pressed up on either side of your head, your cunt bared to the crystal chandelier directly above you.

“Can you hold your legs like this?”

Surprised at your own flexibility, you turn your head to study each of your legs.

“Yes.”

She beams at you.

“That’s my girl.”

Every inch of you burns delightfully. Hers.

She lowers her head between your legs. Her tongue slips through your folds, licking a stripe over your open cunt. A squeal and a moan converge in your throat at the sudden sensation and your face burns with embarrassment at the sound.

Alina lifts her head, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Stay just like this.”

She moves over to the side of the room, standing on tiptoe to reach for the decorative light fixture attached to the wall. The flame flutters as she grips the base, loosening it from the attachment that keeps it fixed there.

Her fingers are curled around the base, which acts as a slim handle as she carries it over to you.

She traces a fingertip lightly over the curve of your buttocks, a contemplative expression dancing in her eyes.

“I’d like to slot this inside you.”

Utterly taken aback, your mouth drops open.

“The candle?”

She laughs.

“No, silly girl.” She tilts the candle holder, gesturing to the handle. “This end here. Do you think you can hold it for me?”

“I-” You falter.

“It would make me very happy.”

Slumping your head back, you stare up at the ceiling, eyes wandering over the sharply cut gems as they reflect the low light of the chandelier.

“You’re coercing me,” you mumble in protest.

She grins, amused and proud.

“Yes.”

Closing your eyes, you push your embarrassment aside.

“Will you go slowly?”

Her expression softens.

“Of course.” She offers you the candle holder which you take with an unsteady hand. “Wait a moment.”

She moves over to her dressing table, opening a drawer which she searches through with a small frown on her face. With Alina busy, you take a moment to study the candle holder. The material is smooth in your hand. There’s a substantial weight to the metal and your core tightens at the thought of having the handle pushed inside you.

Alina returns with a small tub of cream which she scoops up with her fingers on one hand. Then she takes the candle holder from you, and you watch as she smears the cream over the handle.

She then slips her hand between your legs, tracing a firm circle over your sensitive cunt. The cream is cold and you twitch at the change in temperature. Her fingers delve inside you, curling as they search for the spot that makes your hips buck upwards with a startled gasp.

A deep moan catches in your throat as she begins to push the handle inside you. In your hand, the metal had felt almost room temperature but it’s like ice as it meets your red-hot cunt.

“There we go. Good girl. Take it all for me.”

She slides it further into you, so that the wick of the candle is pointing upwards towards the chandelier above you.

“With some practice, you might be able to hold onto a more weighty candlestick, one with several arms.” It’s hard to concentrate on anything while she’s twisting the base inside you. “A pretty little candelabra,” she teases.

A familiar stiffness enters your body, and you inhale sharply when you realise the sun must be rising. Alina strokes your thigh soothingly with a smile.

“It’s okay. Remember, you just need to relax.”

The idea of turning into a statue doesn’t scare you as much as it did the first time, but you still aren’t comfortable as the heavy sensation fills your body. Suddenly, you realise that she intends on keeping the candle holder inside you during your transformation - that during the day she will be able to use your body as a light fixture.

“Alina?”

She stills and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve spoken her name aloud in front of her. Her dark eyes fix onto yours.

“Yes?”

“What would happen if…” Embarassment makes you pause, as you struggle to gather your words. “…if I reached my climax the moment I turn back into a statue?”

She grins widely.

“Then you will stay in that blissful state for the entire day.”

“The entire day?”

She nods.

“It is a rather intense experience. The pleasure could break you.” She tilts her head, her eyes locked onto your soaked cunt as she continues to twist the handle inside you. The urge to squirm coils inside you, but with your body transforming all you can manage is a shiver.

“If I continue like this, you will stay on edge for the entire day.” She blinks at you. “Which would you prefer?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your throat growing hoarse and dry as the skin of your neck turns to stone.

She hums, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“You handled a day of edging rather well last time. I think we will stick to that until you’re better trained to withstand pleasure.”

Thoughts of how she might train your body to endure such pleasure has anticipation prickling up your spine. She smiles, releasing her hold on the candle holder so that she can lean over and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Pure bliss warms your body as you wake, a pleasurable fullness in your core that tempts you into sinking back into slumber. But the sound of voices keeps you somewhat awake.

“She thinks far too much.” A familiar voice. Aleksander. A firm hand strokes down your bare back.

“Well, I know how to remedy that.”

“And what do you suggest, my darling wife?”

“We spend the entire night in bed, passing her between one another. She can’t think if she’s drunk on pleasure.”

After blinking some of the sleep from your eyes, you shift your body slightly and realise you’re lying on someone’s bare chest - Aleksander.

His dark eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips, and your heart pounds violently as you attempt to remove yourself from him. Involuntarily, your cunt tightens around his cock - as if protesting the mere thought of your sudden exit. He settles both his hands on your waist, holding you firmly in place.

“Easy, little gem. I’m not mad at you.”

You blink at him.

“You’re not?”

He shakes his head, breathing out a soft,

“No. I’m not.” He rolls his hips upwards, drawing a low moan from you. “Alina told me you apologised.” His hips grind against yours, the head of his cock nudging the sweet spot inside that makes your skin tingle. “Therefore, you’re forgiven.”

“Thank you,” you gasp.

He breathes out a laugh.

His cock is so big inside you. It stretches you open with each thrust, nudging at your most sensitive areas which has your toes curling with pleasure.

Alina rests her hand against your stomach, stroking the skin there as she presses the area where her husband’s cock is. Her name is slurred as it tumbles from your lips. She laughs.

“Yesterday was a long day for you, little statue. You must be tired still. Get some more sleep.”

She kisses your temple and a fuzziness fills your head as her magic creeps into your mind. A delirious moan slips from your lips as you succumb to her spell.

Despite being asleep, you can still feel everything happening to your unconscious body, while your mind wanders through a medley of fantasies featuring Aleksander and Alina - which blur with reality until you don’t know what is actually happening.

Grinding your naked body into Alina’s, her hands grasping at your most sensitive areas. She slips her fingers inside you, prying your cunt open.

Kneeling between Aleksander’s thighs with Alina by your side. The two of you trade wet, open mouthed kisses. She takes Aleksander’s cock into her mouth, pretty pink lips stretched. The next time she kisses you, the taste of her husband clings to her tongue.

The head of Aleksander’s cock gliding over your dripping cunt.

Alina’s teeth grazing your nipple.

Her tongue licking up the length of your inner thigh.

The pad of his finger, rubbing your clit.

The sticky softness of Alina’s cunt against your tongue.

Distantly, you hear Aleksander curse in an ancient language you’ve only ever read on yellowed pages. His fingers dig into the soft plush of your cheeks as he grips your face while fucking into you relentlessly.

“Alya. Where do you want me to-” He groans sharply.

“Inside, Sasha,” she insists with a breathy sigh. The sound of her slick coated fingers, playing with her cunt makes your core tense. Her back arches as she whines softly. “Finish inside her.”

With a stifled gasp, Aleksander presses his forehead against your collarbone, as he nears his climax. His teeth dig violently into the hollow of your throat, the pain causing you to tighten around him, your cunt now strangling his cock.

The two of you moan in unison, grasping tightly onto one another as you both reach the peak of your pleasure, your bodies writhing in the throes of a violent, synchronised orgasm. Aleksander’s grip on your hips is tight, squeezing you as he groans.

Alina isn’t far behind, her frantic movements and moans registering distantly through the clouds of bliss fogging up your head. It takes quite some time for you to catch your breath. Even when Aleksander eventually pulls out from inside you, there’s a disconnect between your mind and your body.

Their magic hazes over your thoughts, dulling your awareness while she plays with Aleksander’s spend as it leaks out of you. The wet sound of her fingers and your unsteady breathing fills the room. She smears the creamy mess over your thighs, before ducking her head down to lap up the streaks with her tongue.

The three of you remain in bed, lying side by side. Unable to stop yourself, you look down at your hand, watching your thumb move slowly over your abdomen.

“You won’t end up with child,” Alina says quietly.

Startled, you look over at her with widened eyes.

“I won’t?”

She shakes her head.

“My magic stops your natural cycle.”

“Oh.”

Her eyes wander slowly down your body, settling on where your hand remains on your stomach.

“Besides, Aleksander and I can’t…” Her voice trails off into nothing and sadness traces its way over her features.

“Alina, I’m so sorry.”

She attempts a casual shrug.

“It’s probably for the best.”

Placing your hand over hers, you squeeze it softly.

“I’m still sorry.”

She slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your hips are pressed flush against hers, your legs tangled together. Her nose brushes against yours before she kisses you softly. Aleksander’s arm curls around the two of you, drawing you both closer to him.

He leaves a kiss on your shoulder, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he inhales a deep sigh. Another kiss is pressed against your pulse point as he murmurs in a voice so quiet you scarcely hear it.

“Thank you.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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

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[rubysunnday]

without you on my mind

summary: it takes a heart stopping and eyes closing for Kaz to realise his feelings can no longer be ignored

a/n: medically inaccurate shizzle for the sake of fanfic, ok

"Kaz, we can't hide dow here forever," Y/N said, shedding the heavy woollen overcoat she'd been wearing. Underneath it she was wearing her usual clothes - the clothes she'd survived Ketterdam in. They were a comfort to her - the familiar feeling of the material against her skin helped calm her nerves just enough.

"We wait," Kaz insisted.

"For what?" Y/N asked, pulling a knife out from her pockets. "This is happening now, Kaz, whether you like it or not."

Y/N turned and walked over to the ladder that led up to the main floor of the skiff. She climbed up it, pushing open the hatch and slowly peeking out from under it. Having deemed it clear, Y/N pushed it open fully and stepped out onto the deck of the skiff, keeping to the shadows.

Which was easy given that Kirigan was currently making more of them.

Both Jesper and Inej had spread out across the skiff. Y/N could hear Inej up above on the mast, her knives thudding against the wood. Jesper was up there too, firing his revolvers at the Volcra flapping around them.

On the main deck of the skiff was Alina. She was still chained to the floor and was struggling to avoid being attacked by the Volcra as they swooped down around her.

Y/N ran across the deck and to her side. "Hello again," she said, flashing her a quick smile before turning her focus to the chains.

"Hi," Alina replied, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Mal, is he -"

"I won't say fine because he's fighting General Kirigan," Y/N replied, pulling a pin from her hair and slotting it into the locks of the chains, "but he's alive."

"Thank the Saints," Alina muttered.

The chains clattered to the floor as Y/N unlocked them. She held a hand out to Alina and helped her up to her feet.

"Now what -"

"You."

Y/N whirled round, subconsciously pushing Alina behind her. One of the heartrender's from earlier had climbed back onto the skiff, looking worse for wear. Y/N wasn't sure what his name was but she didn't care - he was with Kirigan and that meant danger.

Alina and Y/N began to slowly walk backwards, trying to put distance between themsleves and the heartrender without alerting the Volcra, who were currently pre-occupied by Inej and Jesper.

Something shined in the heartrender's hand. Y/N hadn't realise she'd pushed Alina aside until the knife whizzed past her, hitting the wood behind where Alina had been standing.

"Go find Mal!" Y/N exclaimed, pushing Alina over to the edge of the skiff. "Go!"

Alina hesitated for a second. Y/N swore and pushed the girl over the edge, not giving her a chance to try and be heroic.

"You're going to regret that," the heartrender snarled.

Y/N shrugged, trying not to show her fear. But she knew the heartrender could hear how fast her heart was beating. "Maybe. But I'm not that attached to this life, so."

The second the heartrender's hands came together, Y/N felt her chest burning. Her heart was slowing down, she could feel it. The ability to simply breathe was becoming impossible.

"I'm going to enjoy feeling your heart stop," the heartrender said, getting closer, step by step, "and watching the life drain from your eyes. To see your last breath leave your body will be a joy."

Y/N fell to her knees, trying desperately to get air into her lungs. She wanted to claw at her chest but she knew, deep down, that it would do nothing. It would only delight the heartrender more.

She couldn't tell if her vision was fading or if the shadows were growing. Darkness was creeping in and its embrace was so welcoming and warm, Y/N wanted to give in.

Then the pain on her chest eased a little. Something whizzed through the air. A thud came from in front of her.

But the darkness was hugging her tightly. Even as her body fell backwards, it landed on something soft and warm - the darkness fully embracing her, even as her lungs screamed.

Kaz had left Y/N for two minutes. Two minutes.

Apparently that was all it took for her to get into trouble.

He'd stepped out onto the deck, seen Y/N on her knees, a heartrender in front of her, delighting in her pain, and he'd seen red. A knife glinted in Y/N's hand and Kaz marched forward, picked it up and launched it at the heartrender, landing it directly in his head.

Y/N fell backwards and Kaz dropped his cane, lurching forward to try and catch her before she hit the ground. Everything in him repulsed at the contact as she landed in his arms, her entire body heavy and limp.

Kaz swallowed the nausea, the taste of salt water in his mouth and held her tightly. He clung to her as he had Jordie.

"Y/N," Kaz said, shaking her as hard as he dared. "Y/N. Y/N, look at me. Don't slip away. Stay with me. Just... stay."

Y/N's head lolled to the side. There was a brief flash of light and in the precious few seconds, Kaz could see her lips had turned blue, her skin pale.

She wasn't breathing.

Panic began to set in. There was no one else around. He was alone. Kaz wasn't an idiot, he knew what limited options he had. He knew what limited time he had.

He couldn't let Y/N die. He couldn't save Jordie. Maybe he could still save her.

As carefully as he could, Kaz lay Y/N on her back on the deck. His hands were shaking; even with the gloves on, he could feel the cold, wet bodies under his touch. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on what was in front of him.

Y/N wasn't breathing, he knew that much. His fingers pressed into the inside of her wrist, searching for a pulse. Under his fingers, he could just feel a slight thump. But it wasn't strong.

Kaz closed his eyes again, forcing himself to calm down and focus. Now was not the time to let his fears and trauma win. This he had to do. He had no choice - no say. And for once, the ghost of his brother was not going to haunt him. He took a deep breath in.

With one hand, he pinched Y/N's nose shut and with the other, pushed her mouth open. Kaz felt the nausea swirl around him as he pressed his lips to Y/N's and breathed air into her lungs. His face was damp and his lips prickled. Every memory of that night came flooding back. The way Jordie's skin had been sodden and wrinkled under his touch. How his eyes had stared blankly at him, glassed over and cold.

Kaz lifted his head and took three deep, shaking breaths in himself. His face was wet, his hands were shaking and Y/N was still not breathing.

Please. He pressed his lips to hers once more, blowing a deep breath into her lungs. I can't do this without you. Kaz took another breath in, pressing his lips to Y/N's pale blue ones. He blew. He blew until his own lungs screamed at him to stop.

As Kaz ran out of air, Y/N gasped sharply and harshly, her hands flailing around, snatching the front of Kaz's coat.

"You're ok," Kaz said, trying to calm Y/N as he tried not to flinch away from her touch. "It's ok."

Kaz looked up as he heard the sound of people coming down the stairs and tried not to look to relieved as Jesper and Inej rounded the corner, both stopping abruptly as they took in Y/N lying on the floor, Kaz kneeling over her.

"Saints, Kaz, what did you do?" Jesper asked, holstering his revolvers and moving to kneel behind Y/N, gently rubbing her back as she wheezed and coughed.

"Nothing," Kaz grumbled, stumbling to his feet. Inej held his cane out to him and he snatched it from her. "Heartrender."

"Shit," Jesper muttered. He brushed Y/N's hair away from her forehead, letting her lean against his chest as she tried to get her breath back. "Did she?"

Kaz didn't give him a response. He looked at him and Jesper nodded once, seemingly understanding what had happened without Kaz having to explain. Kaz took another step back, away from Y/N, and roughly wiped his face, smearing the tears over his skin.

Inej walked out onto the main deck of the skiff and looked over the edge that Mal and Alina had both disappeared off. She whirled around, her eyes wide.

"Everyone, shield your eyes!"

Kaz turned his back and covered his eyes with his arm. As he did so, he saw Jesper shield Y/N's with his coat and then he was blinded by a bright white light.

The skiff somehow managed to glide out the other side of the Fold, eventually coming to an abrupt stop in a sandbank.

It'd taken Inej, Mal and Zoya to unlock the ramp and drop it down and even then, it didn't reach the floor. There was no platform to climb down from - just a large gap between the end of the ramp and the start of the sandy floor.

Inej had jumped down with ease and, when no one had been looking, Kaz had awkwardly jumped down to, swearing quietly as his leg buckled and bent at the impact. Inej waited to check he was ok before calling up to the rest of them.

"Right, come on, love," Jesper said, helping Y/N up to her unsteady feet.

Y/N sagged into Jesper's side and let him manveour her down ot the ramp. Mal had already jumped down with Alina and was waiting under the ramp for Y/N.

"Mal's gonna catch you," Jesper said as he sat Y/N on the edge of the ramp. "And if he doesn't, you can stab him."

"Very funny," Y/N muttered.

Y/N pushed herself off the edge of the ramp and, true to his word, Mal caught her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he gently lowered her to the ground. Alina's arm came around her other side and between them, they held Y/N up and walked her up the sandbank.

Alina guided Y/N down to the sand and then sat down beside her, taking her hand in hers. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Y/N asked, staring at her, bewildered.

"You almost died because of - "

"Alina, I don't care if you're a saint or not, if you finish that sentence, I will hit you," Y/N warned.

Alina smiled, putting a hand on Y/N's cheek. "Ok. I won't."

"We need to move," Kaz said, coming up the sandbank, Inej beside him. "We're too close to the Fold and if there are any survivors, they'll be lurking around here."

Mal nodded. "We'll walk for a bit then sit and start a fire to warm ourselves up before we decide what to do next."

They were a right sight, walking across the undergrowth, twigs crunching under their feet. As soon as they'd found a clearing, Y/N had sat down on the grass, not caring that it was wet.

It was bitterly cold - a layer of frost lay over the grass and the wind was freezing. Y/N rubbed her hands together, shivering. Even the fire Mal had started was doing little to keep her warm. Kaz had gone back to the skiff, leaving the rest of them alone for a moment.

"Hey, Jes," Y/N called, lifting her head up. "Come here."

Jesper stood up and came over to her, siting down beside her and crossing his legs. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

"What's up, buttercup?"

"What happened to me?"

Jesper's hand, which had been rubbing up and down her arm, stilled. "How much do you remember?"

"The heartrender..." She trailed off. "I remember falling backwards into something..."

Jesper exhaled, puffing his cheeks out. "Ok. Since he's not here... Kaz killed the heartrender and caught you. But you weren't breathing."

Y/N nodded, reaching out to take Jesper's hand in hers when she noticed it shaking slightly. "Go on."

"I don't know what exactly happened but when I came down, you were breathing again, lying in Kaz's arms. And he looked like he'd just been through hell and back so..."

Jesper trailed off, the sound of the fire crackling filling the silence. Y/N squeezed his hand, partly to reassure herself but also to reassure him that she was still there.

"We presuming -"

"Yeah," Jesper said, wiping his eyes quickly. "Yeah, Inej and I are presuming that he saved your life."

Y/N looked up, spotting a familar black shape climbing over the hill to them. "He would've done that for anyone of us, though."

"Yeah, possibly." Jesper pressed a kiss to her cheek and leant his head on her shoulder. "But there's not many people he'd have kept going for."

Y/N reached up and put her hand against Jesper's head, rubbing her thumb up and down reassuringly. "We're all still here, Jesper. And soon enough, we'll be home."

Jesper smiled. "Always an optimist, my darling."

Ten minutes later and they were beginning the long walk back to Os Kervo. Y/N was still unsteady on her feet but had waved Jesper on ahead, wanting to talk to Kaz.

"Kaz," Y/N began, falling in to step alongside him. "This might sound silly -"

"Then don't ask it."

Y/N sighed, used to his blunt attitude. "Good to know you haven't changed. Look, doesn't matter, I'll just -"

Kaz stopped suddenly, his gloved hand reaching out to snatch Y/N's wrist. "Wait."

Y/N paused, wobbling slightly. She could feel Kaz's fingers readjusting their grip on her wrist, the leather rough against her skin.

"What happened back there," Kaz said, his voice hoarse. "I...I don't want to talk about. I don't have time to..."

Y/N turned, taking his hand in both of hers and cradling it. "Kaz," Y/N said softly. "I don't need to know why. I don't... I don't need to know what happened to you." She gently squeezed his hand. "I just..."

She trailed off, her eyes looking into Kaz's. For a moment, it was just them, in the cold, clinging to one another as eveything moved around them.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered.

Y/N lowered her head and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the back of Kaz's hand and then let go, stepping back and turning around. Jesper had paused and held out a hand to her. As she caught up to him, Y/N took it and smiled, giggling at whatever he'd just said.

Kaz was frozen for a moment. His hand hung by his side, still, even as the skin prickled and burnt. Except it wasn't because of the past, this time.

[comatosebunny09]

what’s done is done (and done again) | leon k.

summary: somehow, you figure you've been here before. and, somewhere far off, he knows you've been here before, too. genre(s): romance, drama, angst, modern au warning(s): female anatomy described, mentions of bodily fluids, dry humping, explicit language, profanity, praise kink, implied character death, mentions of decay and blood notes: it's a fuckin’ time loop. based off this post i made a little while ago. inspired by the time traveler's wife and happy death day. thank you for reading, darling! now playing: if you let me - alina baraz

You’re in the briefing room, fighting for your life. 

Almost face-plant into your notebook a few times. Doesn’t help that it’s warm and dim, and you haven’t had your coffee. 

Your supervisor decided it would be an excellent time to bore you all half to death as if you weren’t already constantly putting your lives on the line. Something about Operational Security violations running rampant throughout your organization. 

Blah, blah, blah.

Of everything you’ve faced thus far, death by PowerPoint would be such a way to go.

“Long night?” bleeds in a voice from your right. Your savior. 

You look at Leon, all wild-eyed, like you’ve been caught doing something nefarious. He smiles in reply, all boyish and unguarded. Watches you like you’ve said something funny or like he could just eat you up. Whatever the context, you enjoy the attention. You always do when it comes from your partner. 

Your face begins to tingle with warmth. But you mask your embarrassment with a half-smile and an elbow to his rib. 

“You would know,” you mouth back, careful not to alert your supervisor. 

Leon smiles a little wider. Chuckles low and abrasive, leaning back in his chair with folded arms. Gives you a nice little view of the veins that live there and the muscle lurking beneath the cuffed sleeves of his shirt. 

He catches you staring in his peripheral, and the smugness he radiates is palpable. No one’s the wiser when he grazes your leg with his under the table. Sets little goose pimples alight on your skin when he pitches himself forward to grip your quad.

You take to messing with some frayed edges of your notebook, tucking your goofy, lopsided smile within its pages. Mind suddenly colors with memories of last night. Labored breaths, sweat, heat, and your tongue coiled around his name. 

Your body hums, and you pinch your thighs together to ward off the pleasant rush of endorphins between. He squeezes and winks, smile lines bracketing his mouth as he returns his attention to the mindless dribble of your boss.

What a long night, indeed.

“Dinner?” Leon simply asks over the blue light of your monitor. 

It feels like more of a statement than a request. Like he knows you’d never deny him as he presses the lid of your laptop closed with a definitive click!

You sit back in an easy slouch in your rolling chair. Cross your arms, looking every bit of smug-read-annoyed, and you eye him warily. 

“Only dinner?”

That grin is back. All dimpled and crinkly-eyed as he props himself against the oakwood of your desk. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the setting sun bleeding into your window, he laughs something guttural. You’re the cheekiest little shit when you wanna be.

“No promises,” he admits with a shrug. Exudes sex even without trying. 

You regard him for a moment. Keep him on edge, though both of you already know the answer. Doesn’t mean you can’t make him squirm with the prospect of your potential rejection. 

You clear your throat after a brief stare down. Feign indifference as you smooth out your sleeves and trousers. 

“Your place or mine?”

Like you’d ever say no.

Your place.

It’s always your place, but you can’t complain. You live on the quieter side of town, tucked away from the cacophony of the city and your nosy-as-all-hell coworkers.

Besides, it’s all cozy inside. Decked out with mood lights and earth tones and enough plants to rival a greenhouse. 

Leon likes it this way. How it distracts him from the bleakness of your jobs. The ever-looming premise of death and decay and corruption. So, you never bother to change it. It’s his little piece of heaven. 

You’re his little piece of heaven. 

Speaking of which—

“Stop it!” you half squeal, half giggle, spatula in one hand, a fistful of soft blonde in the other. 

The sound of your collective merriment carries from the kitchen. Sepia-toned with smooth jazz leaking from the soundbar. 

Leon’s chuckle vibrates your skin. Hands are a searing hot and homely pressure, perched on your waist. Lips blister kisses down the slope of your shoulder, and his hair tickles your neck. 

“Can’t help myself. ‘sides, you had a little sauce on your neck. Had to—” Kiss. “—clean it up for you.” Suck.

“Bullshit.”

“Mmmm, honest,” Leon drawls in a way that makes your knees shake, and you feel the sound of it pooling in your loins. 

He proceeds to do terribly distracting things with his mouth on your neck whilst his hands embark on a journey down your thighs. They bunch up the lace of your dress on their excursion, making way for his fingers to tiptoe between your legs, gripping meaty thigh until your flesh craters between. 

“Leon.” 

You huff out something between a laugh and a pleasured sigh. An eager hand instinctively curls around his nape, and you find yourself mindlessly grinding against him. Eyes shutter closed, head falls back into the pocket of his shoulder. Around a smile, you breathe, 

“I worked really hard on this. You don’t let me finish, I’ll kick your ass.”

That doesn’t deter him. Not in the slightest. Never does, and he snickers something sinister. Eases his grip on your thighs northward until the knuckles of his thumbs graze the seat of your panties. You shiver. Almost say, fuck dinner.

“Thought you were on the menu.”

You snort, gripping the counter’s edge for leverage and shoving back. Leon stumbles a few steps away, all blown wide pupils and a peachy color dusting his cheeks. Looks at you like a kicked puppy. That wobbly lip nearly does it for you.

“Later,” you promise.

Leon has a sweet tooth. You  always  give him dessert. 

It’s a mire of sounds.

Your voice, high and light. Leon’s, deep and abrasive. Your collective laughter and pleasured sighs intermingle in your bedroom whilst music croons in the background.

He’s got you where he wants you. Straddling his lap on your bed like a good girl, swathed in the subtle moon glow of the room. Has his lips latched onto your throat and his hands eagerly mapping out the contours of your body.

Your dress is bunched around your hips. Straps spilling down your arms, head thrown back, lids shuttered. He has this way of whittling you down to incoherencies like no one ever has. 

Who would’ve thought your goofy little Leon could be such a sex symbol?

He grips your waist, encouraging you to grind against him. Hard and heavy, and he radiates heat through the confines of his slacks. He feels so good and big, and you might just cum from the sensation alone. From the proximity. From the dangerous gravel of his voice as he murmurs every level of filth into your ear.

So good for me. 

Already wet, and I haven’t even taken your panties off. 

Naughty baby. 

You might cum before I even get it inside.

You would fully surrender yourself to him—to his palms kneading your breasts and the calluses of his thumbs scraping pleasantly over your nipples—if not for a series of buzzing sounds emanating from your nightstand. 

Again.

“God dammit,” you sigh, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck that,” Leon husks, licking up the column of your throat. Desperation wades beneath the surface of his tone. Possessiveness. Desire. “Fuck the phone. I want you. Need you.”

It’s hard to argue when he gazes at you like that, with hooded eyes and furled lashes. And he’s drunk off the feel of you. Begging. Dipping his head down to close his lips around your pebbled nipple, and it’s like you’ve been struck by white lightning. 

“Fuh-huck!”

He groans against your tit in reply, matching the undulation of your hips with a roll of his own. You cling to him for dear life, fingers buried in his hair, pussy leaking and swollen against the seam of his trousers, mouth parted, and lips shining with spit. 

Try as you might to ignore it, the insistent humming of your phone leaks through the static of your brain.

“Fuck, Leon, I gotta…I gotta take this,” you gasp, scrambling for the nightstand. Whoever’s calling doesn’t know the meaning of peace. 

Leon doesn’t relent. Has a mouthful of tit, flittering his tongue over your nip and eyeing you wantonly and fucking groaning like you’re the tastiest morsel to ever grace his tongue. 

A familiar voice bleeds through the receiver as you bite your lips against a whine. 

“Hey!” trills your coworker, all shrill and uncomfortably cheery despite the hour. Cheryl from HR. You should’ve known. 

Play it cool. Though it’s exceedingly difficult with the object of your desires fucking you through your clothes. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Girl, I think I left my purse in your car.” 

You blanch. 

You picked her up for lunch. Of course, she left it. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Think my ID’s in there. Can’t get into the office in the morning without it. You know they’re tired of me losing that thing.” Sigh.

A groan swells in your chest. You’re at odds with yourself. Slap a hand over your forehead, cursing whatever higher being decided to bless and punish you tonight.  “I’ll go check the car,” you relent. Leon releases a chagrined sound in the background. Pins you with incredulous eyes as he releases your tit from his mouth with a wet pop!

Fitfully, you wrestle yourself free from Leon’s arms. Giggle as you stumble off the bed, and Leon lunges for you. You easily dodge, tiptoeing towards the entrance of your bedroom. Give him a placating smile halfway through the threshold, silently promising to finish what you’ve started once you’re done.

Hurry back, he mouths around a pout. Makes little grabby hands at you, and the furrow of his brows almost makes you clamber back onto his lap. But you’re a Good Samaritan. Sometimes. And you’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t find Cheryl’s purse.

Soundlessly, you whisk through your home towards the garage after fixing your dress. Ease into the driver seat of your car, the door slamming shut behind. You locate her purse on the passenger side floor with laser precision. Hard not to see it when it’s gaudy and pink like that. 

You rummage through it, mindful of its contents. Find her ID soon after, turning over the cool plastic in your hand to confirm. 

“It’s in here.”

She releases a weighted sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I can meet you at the front gate in the morning to give it to you.”

“Girl, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”

You tamp down a smile. Tuck your bashfulness into your shoulder. Cheryl’s infectiously chipper. A nice change of pace to the depressing humdrum of your profession. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you in the morning.”

“See ya!”

When she hangs up, you ease her purse into your glove box. Nestle it between pistol mags and your badge for safekeeping. 

You glance at your phone. Squint against its brilliance, and it’s a quarter to midnight. Fuck. Another late night.

A quiet smile crests over your lips when you catch sight of your home screen. Of course, it would be Leon. With an adorably cheesy dog filter, and he’s all baggy-eyed and uncharacteristically happy on the screen. You’ve gotta get back to him. Left him all hard and leaking in your bed. 

So, you reach for the crisp door handle, mind abuzz with thoughts of Leon, Leon, Leon.

But then, there’s suddenly an explosion of colors. Yellow and orange seeping into red. A sound that’s deafening and robs you of all thought. White hot pain wading over your skin. And then…

Well, then, there is nothing.

[babesiamthemenace]

36 from the NSFW prompts with Nikolai please?! 🥰

I know you requested smut but this wound up tuning into an angst/love confession fic within smut. I hope you enjoy!!!! Requests are open!

Summary:  Reader is a lifelong friend of Nikolai, having been with him during Sturmhold. Now that he is crowned to be King, the reality of war is starting to infiltrate your friendship and awaken things you had hoped to keep hidden. No chances left untaken.

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings:  🚫18+ Minors DNE🚫, afab! reader, slight angst, smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it pls)

not my gif

No matter how many candles filled the map room of the forge, it still wasn’t enough to chase away the darkness of night. It gave a warm and hazy glow to the area, leaving a dull heat in the air. 

It was these candles that brought out the angles of Nikolai’s face. It was almost comforting for you to see him hunched over a table, scouring maps and looking over plans. You could almost pretend you were back on the volkvolny, deciding which port to dock on instead of where to attack next. From your hidden spot in the doorway, you could see the stress in his brow and almost feel tension across his shoulders. His hair was messy from fingers running through it, lips slightly chapped as well. You wished you could push away the loose strands from his forehead. 

“I know you’re staring.” Nikolai sounded tired, but there was still a hint of jest in his voice. You took a step forward. 

“Sorry. Lost in thought.” More papers, which had been forgotten in your hands, found their way in front of the king as you adjusted the mess on the long table. 

“So, what’s the consensus?” he asked, straightening his back with a satisfied sigh

A small smile found its way to your lips. “What?” 

“Am I still as devilishly handsome now that I’m to be King, or was a daring privateer a better look for me?” He faced you head on, a humorously quizzical look across his face. 

Chuckling, you pretended to study his features. You followed the lines of his strong nose and plush lips all the way to his collar bone peaking out of an unbuttoned undershirt. His brow tightened in anticipation of your answer. Honestly, he never looked more beautiful to you than right now; but he couldn’t know that. “Definitely the privateer, I’m afraid.

“Well damn.” 

Smiling again, your hands searched for something to do. As if second nature, you began piling up loose papers, and rolling maps back up. Your eyes followed paths across the country side and the borderline unreadable footnotes along the edges. Pausing, you ran your fingers along a dashed line going north. It was done in pencil rather than the professional inking of the map.  It was the path Alina and Mal had taken to look for the firebird with Baghra. Worry ran through you as you thought of your friends. 

“They’ll be okay.” You hadn’t noticed Nikolai come up beside you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, fingers gripping tightly to the wool of your coat. You could almost feel the warmth of his skin through the thick fabric. 

“I know they will be.” you sighed, leaning your head back. “it’s what happens after.” 

He hummed in confusion.

“We’ll be going to battle.” 

“And when have I known you to be afraid of a fight?” His voice was still teasing, much to jovial for your liking. 

“When the fight has stakes like these, Nikolai.” you snapped at him. You turned fast, his hand dropping from your shoulder. “This isn’t some slavers ship or enemy club. This is us, against Grisha; powerful Grisha. The odds are stacked against us here.” 

“Don’t you think I know that.” he wasn’t yelling, but his voice was stern, commanding. “You think I don’t know all that we are risking here?”

“I know you know.” You ran your fingers through your hair angrily “It doesn’t change the fact that the possibility of us failing is greater than winning.” You pressed your palms against your brow “I could die” your hands slammed into your chest, then into his “You could die.”

“I won’t let that happen.” his voice was firm with resolve  

“You can’t control that.” 

He laughed coldly “Have you no faith in me?” 

“On the contrary, I have too much faith in you.” 

You roughly sat down in an empty chair, hiding your face in your hands. Faith, devotion, pride; these were all things you felt for Nikolai. You would do whatever he asked, you trusted Nikolai with your life. 

“I have followed you to the ends of the earth, and I would gladly do it again. You’ve been there through thick and thin, but it doesn't change that fact that I’m still afraid.” You looked up to see he had leaned against the table beside you, eyes on yours. Your voice was quiet, wavering with emotion. “I have too much to lose.” 

Nikolai’s voice was heavy and low, as though saying it too loud was a sin. 

“We all have something to lose.”  His hand found yours, still not looking away from your gaze. A pang of nervous excitement filled you as you stared into his eyes. A small smile couldn't help but find its way to your lips. You could almost get high off of this giddiness Nikolai was making you feel. It was making you bold. 

You stood up slowly, still holding onto Nikolai’s hand. The other gently cupped the side of his face. The slight prick of a day’s stubble brushed against your palm as he leaned into your touch. 

“If something is to happen to us… and we fall” you whispered, your face growing closer to his “ I want it to be with no regrets.” 

It was Nikolai who crossed the final stretch to meet your lips. The kiss was not long and almost timid. Still, his chapped lips felt like heaven against yours as you pulled away. Eyes closed, you pressed your forehead against his, warm breath fanning over your face. You could feel the energy buzzing between you.

“I am yours, Nikolai.” 

He groaned, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck. 

“You shouldn’t say that.” His voice was low, spoken against your skin 

“I speak nothing but the truth.” Your hand found itself on the back of his head, running through the shorter hair “I am yours, Nikolai. I have been for a while.”  

One arm circled your waist. “Your words are dangerous, little minx.”

The next kiss from Nikolai was not so timid. It was deeper, the hand on your cheek almost pulling you closer. His lips met against yours again and again, the taste intoxicating. You gripped onto his hair as he stood. Walking back with long steps, you slammed into the wall as Nikolai pressed himself to you. 

There was a crazed atmosphere about the both of you; a boldness. The excitement of this finally happening mixed with your looming situation left only desperation. Any type of suave was gone. You needed him, and you needed him now. 

For how frantic Nikolai’s hands were moving, his tongue was gentle as it ran along your lower lip, almost asking for permission. You let him in without a second thought, groaning. The chill of the stone wall was a stark contrast against the heat of his body against your. As you pushed yourself farthing into him, you felt something hard pressed against your thigh. Swiftly, Nikolai untucked your shirt, hands roaming along the newly exposed skin of your waist.

Nikolai’s lips began to move along your jaw in wet, open mouthed kisses. Moaning into your skin, you pushed his head closer to you. Hurried fingers found their way to the buttons of Nickolai’s shirt, messily undoing the first few. 

“Wait. Stop.” he was out of breath, hands gently grabbing yours. Still, he continued to press kisses to your skin. “Not here.” 

He looked down at you with lust filled eyes, puffy lips shining as he smiled. A bolt of heat went straight to your core. 

Leading you by your hands, he quickly blew out any remaining candles. You thanked every saint you could think of for the empty halls as you hurried to Nikolai’s quarter. You both giggled as he fumbled with the door, hands still intertwined. Anticipation buzzed in the air around you.

His room was dark when you entered with only the cool moon for light. Nikolai entered first, leaning into you to pull the door closed behind you. It had the same effect as the candle light, highlighting his already prominent features. You both quickly kicked your shoes off, Nikolai throwing his overcoat to the floor.  

“Now, where were we?” 

If not for how badly you wanted him, you would have laughed at how insufferable Nikolai sounded. You settled for a smile as your hands went to his jaw. Your kiss was not quite as frantic as before, but just as deep. His hands rested on your waist as you pulled his face closer to yours. Your noses bumped together while you slowly walked him back to the bed. You wasted no time crawling onto his lap once he sat, lips never leaving his. Hands traveled the expanse of your back as you nibbled on his lower lip, pulling deep groans from him. Continuing to unbutton the rest of his shirt, your mouth found its place against his neck, sucking dark marks into the pale flesh. Unable to stop yourself, you ground down into Nikolai’s hips, lightly biting into his skin. Groaning, his hips bucked into yours, sending a delicious tension to your core. 

You finished on his buttons, slipping off his suspender and pulling his shirt back. 

In all your years together, you had seen Nikolai shirtless before, but there was something different about it this time. You traced the strong lines of his chest, and ran your fingers up his sides, enjoying the shivers that followed your touch. His hands gripped onto the loose shirt bunched around waist, blue eyes boring into yours. 

“May I?” you nodded. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling the shirt over your head. While you were still in your undershirt, the thin fabric did little to hide your form. Lips finding yours, his large hands palmed your chest, nipples pebbling under his touch. You moaned into his mouth, body on fire.  Whether it was a bolt of courage, or the need to have Nikolai’s skin on yours, you pulled off the slip. 

He moved his hands so they were resting just under your chest, rough fingers rubbing lightly over soft skin. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him watch you, eyes trailing over your form. 

“Beautiful.” he whispered, eyes now on yours once again, “Perfect.” 

He began his assault on your neck again, following your collarbone to your breasts. He took one into his mouth, lapping over the bud. You moaned, your body keening forward into his touch. His hands supporting your back, Nikolai’s deep blue eyes kept contact with yours. He released with a pop, instantly moving to the other. As he continued, you ground down onto him, needing to find a release to the pressure building between you legs. One of the hands you had buried in his hair trailed down the waistline of his pants. Experimentally, you cupped the growing bulge, palming him. He instantly stopped what he was doing, burying his face between your breasts. 

“Saints, don’t stop.” He all but moaned into your skin, breathing heavily. You didn’t, pushing him down by his shoulders until he lay on his back, you overtop of him. 

“Gods, I want you.'' By now his blue eyes were completely blown out by lust, lips still shining. “I want all of you.”

To his protests, you did stop, moving up till you were over his head. You kissed him and he leaned up, chasing your lips when you pulled away. 

“As I said before, I’m yours to take”  

In a blur, you found your back hitting the soft mattress of the bed, Nikolai over you. His weight was being held up by one hand while the other was down at the button of your pants. He ran over the skin of your stomach, both in a teasing and hesitant manner. He would not go further just yet. 

You squirmed at his touch in anticipation “Please, Nikolai.”

“Please what?” his hand was now in your undergarments, but still not where you needed him 

“Please” you whined “touch me.” 

It felt like fire when he finally touched you, running his fingers along your slit. You both groaned. 

“Fuck” he was speaking almost to himself “Saints, you're so wet.”  

His fingers ran along your folds, and his thumb found purchase on your clit. You mewled, hips bucking into his hand.

Nikolai huffed in an almost laugh, “Eager, are we?”

He continued in tight, slow circles, drawing more sounds from your open mouth. You moaned at the pleasant stretch of a finger, heels digging into the bed. 

“You said you are mine, but that is simply not true.” you looked up at him with blown out eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“What do you…” you stopped, choking on a moan as he added another finger. It was like your nerves were on fire, and his touch was doing nothing to stop the heat. 

“You may think you are mine, but you're wrong.” he quickened his pace “I have been yours much longer than you have been mine.”

His words resonated in you, adding more fuel the fire.

Your fingers gripped onto the sheets, as if letting go would mean your death. The tension in your lower belly was now turning into a tight coil. Your pants now sat around your thighs, which were uncontrollably bucking up into his hand. Nikolai leaned forwards and took one of your breasts into his mouth, lewd sucking noises filling the air, along with your moans. 

“Please.” you wailed. The coil was now dangerously close to breaking, the tension almost too much “I need to…Please!” 

His lips left sloppy kisses against your skin, trailing up to your face. 

“Let go, love.” you wailed at his words “Let go for me.” 

With one final thrust into his hand, the coil snapped. Your vision darkened, pleasure taking over all of your senses. It was the most intense feeling you had ever observed. It pulsed throughout your body and into your core.

Your legs were shaking. That was the first thing you realized as you came too. The second was the wetness on your thighs. The final was the hand gently brushing over your face. Nikolai was cooing at you, pressing kisses lightly against your cheek. 

“You alright, my love?” he spoke in whispers, and you realized how out of breath you were. Instead of answering, you smashed your lips against his is a messy kiss, trying to convey your love for him into one simple action. All tongue and teeth, you finally broke apart to catch a full breath, resting against your forehead against his neck. 

“I need you, Nikolai.” you looked up at him “I need all of you.” 

The second he stood, you instantly missed his weight over yours. You sat, almost chasing him, but stopped when you saw he was undoing his pants. Shimmering yours the rest of the way down your legs, you laid back and waited. 

He was hard, almost painfully so, you would have guessed. Tip red and angry, it almost pulsed with need. A quick flash of guilt crossed you. You wondered how long he was like this while you were in the grasps of pleasure.

Moving back overtop of you, he ran his member through your folds, collecting slick. You moaned at the sensation, your heaving chest meeting Nikolai’s.

 You thought nothing could feel better than his fingers, but you were wrong. He created the most delightful stretch as he entered your heat. Nikolai groaned as he bottomed out, eyes screwed shut in pure pleasure, muscles tense in control.

He started with slow, yet deep strokes, hitting a spot that made your toes curl. Hands cradled his face. You shared breaths, his nose pressed into your cheek as his lips danced over yours. 

You both whispered words to each other, mostly only half finished thoughts lost in moans. Your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to keep him close as his thrusts began to speed up. The tension began to form again. His head dropped to your neck letting out smaller moans and whines into your skin.

Your hands rested on his back, skin clammy from sweat. His damp hair tickled you, but you didn’t mind as one hand dug into it, pulling slightly. His skin was fiery against yours, and yet you still tried to push as much of yourself against him as possible. One of his hands traveled down to your core, thumb messily rubbing over your clit once more. The small mewls you were making turned into choked wails as the coil tightened almost unbearably. 

Nikolai’s strokes were turning sloppy against you, going as deep and as fast as possible, hitting that perfect spot every time. It was a particular strong stroke that sent you over the edge yet again. 

You came, calling out his name as you raked your nails down his back. With one final thrust into your spasming core, he finished, groaning into your neck.  A new kind of warmth flooded your system. You were spent in the best way possible, body tired and thighs slick. The only sound that filled the air was heavy breathing as Nikolai looked up from your neck. He pulled out slowly and you both groaned at the sensation, but the loss of connection as well. You registered that he left, but came back very shortly, towel in hand.

After cleaning yourselves up, Nikolai pulled you close to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you. He caressed your face, pushing back hair sticking with sweat. 

If you thought he was pretty an hours ago, he was gorgeous now. Messy hair stood in different direction and a nice flush covered his cheeks. Dark love bites littered his upper body, and his lips were almost bruised. You were sure you looked similar.

“I meant what I said” he whispered, smile on his face “I am yours, my darling” 

You leaned up and caught his lips. The kiss was tired, both of you energy gone.

“I love you” you grinned into his lips 

“And I love you.” 

[nanowrimo]

Plot vs. Story: Why the Difference Matters

Is there a difference between plot and story? NaNo participant Hedi Mohammed walks us through this question and talks about how knowing the difference can help you in your writing.

You may be wondering why this is a question at all. While it might not be an obvious problem, many writers tend to mash together the words “plot” and “story” and use them interchangeably. How accurate is that assumption?

It turns out that there is a notable difference between them, and knowing it gives you an edge over plot bunnies, characters acting out, and all kinds of other problems!

What is a Plot?

A plot is a collection of events that happen in a certain order in a story. More importantly, plot is what your characters respond to; it’s the combination of this action and reaction that moves a story forward. Therefore, the plot is considered a building block rather than the whole.

What is a Story?

On the other hand, a story is more than the sum of its parts; it includes the plot events, characters, worldbuilding, themes, and wording of your book. All of these different building blocks come together to form a complete, well-written recount of the story you want to tell.

Why is Knowing the Difference Important?

As you can imagine, trying to force the idea of plot, a building block, being equal to the entire story is a recipe for disaster.

By equating the plot to the whole story, you might find yourself focusing primarily on what happens in the world of your characters. This can make you accidentally compromise on other equally important parts of your story, like better characterization, without you realizing it.

Remember that plot events mean nothing without the reactions of the characters to them. There are many sides to a good story; events can be seen as heartfelt, cold, or scary depending on how characters react and how you set the scene.

How It Helps You Improve Your Writing

Simply knowing the difference between plot and story can clear up a few of the issues that writer’s block can stem from, like not knowing which direction your story is taking. Additionally, you can:

Prioritize different parts of your story. By moving away from the plot every now and then, you start to notice other areas that may need more work.

Improve the characterization of your characters. With the relationship between plot and characters in mind, you can develop your protagonist(s) and antagonist(s) alongside the events that affect them.

Explore more creative ways to make use of your worldbuilding/themes. Develop your mood in less common ways, or take advantage of simple sentences to make punchy statements.

Stay motivated and power through writer’s block. If you consider writer’s block a mystery to be solved, then you just made a breakthrough!

Here you go, a tidbit of information for your writing needs! While the misunderstanding may seem small, resolving it can have an incredible effect on your writing process.

Hedi Mohammed is an up-and-coming content writer and editor of MIST: After the Apocalypse, an Egyptian bestselling novel. Now that they have much more time to dedicate to writing, be on the lookout for fiction and poetry books of their own coming soon! Photo by Alina Vilchenko

[obaex]

island breeze + lights down low - rafe cameron

summary: rafe can't keep his eyes off of you, so he decides to do something about it

word count: 1.2k

a/n: so excited to break my little hiatus with this! just a little something something that has me dreaming of summer nights like this.

soundtrack: fantasy / alina baraz + galimatias

The tequila tingled on your tongue, sending heat to your cheeks that matched the subtle sunburn from your afternoon at the beach. The salty air was thick against the breeze coming off the ocean, which was crashing just a few yards away from the club you and your friends were at for the night. The music floated between the palm trees, rocking them as the sun dove into the skyline, spraying the night sky with the last of its deep orange rays. String lights twinkled above you as your heeled feet carried you to the dancefloor where you joined your friends and lost yourself in the music.

Dark blue eyes traced your figure, traced the way your hair blew in the ocean breeze, the way your dress hugged you in all the right places, and the carefree, relaxed smile that rested permanently on your perfect lips.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend he wasn't captivated by you, trying to distract himself with another beer, with his friends, his eyes always seeming to find you again in the crowd. He swore he wasn't doing it on purpose; it's not like he'd never seen a beautiful girl before, he practically ran this island, he was well acquainted with every girl it had to offer - what made you different, he didn't know. Perhaps it was the fact that you seemed... genuine. You were enjoying yourself for yourself, you weren't there to show off, you didn't care who was watching, you were having fun. Something about your carefree confidence was incredibly sexy and before he really had time to think about it, Rafe was on his feet walking towards you.

You felt his presence before you saw him; your friends exchanging wide-eyed looks over your shoulder stirring you to turn around. Your eyes met his immediately, sapphire blue, twinkling in the twilight. A confident smirk rested on his lips and you couldn't help but to smile in return, biting your bottom lip in response. His hair was buzzed short and at this close distance you could see the freckles on his nose against his tan skin, could smell him, a scent that reminded you of clean laundry and sandalwood.

He leaned over to be heard against the loud music, cheek grazing yours.

"You're not from around here" he said, cutting through any pleasantries.

"You make a habit of knowing every girl on this island?" you replied smartly, pulling back just far enough to see the look in his eyes, your noses nearly brushing one another.

"Only the pretty ones" he said, not missing a beat nor giving up an inch of space between you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your cool confidence while your stomach did somersaults.

"Dance with me" he said.

It wasn’t a question, it was more of a demand, like he knew the word 'no' wouldn't be found anywhere in your repertoire. You blushed, your mind scrambling for a witty reply, but he didn't wait for one as he took in your flustered energy and reached for your hands, curling your fingers into his and pulling you forward as he walked backwards onto the dancefloor. It was a simple gesture, but in the low light, the sticky humidity, with the steady thump of the bass coursing through your veins, there was something absolutely sultry about the way his hands, his fingers, slipped around yours.

His eyes never left you, making you feel like melted honey, like the edges of your vision blurred to only focus on him. He pulled you deep into the crowd of bodies that enveloped you, separating you from reality and he pulled you into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

You could have died on the spot at the feeling of being pressed against him as his signature scent overwhelmed you. You could feel his warmth, feel his taught muscles underneath his loose-fitting linen shirt. You ran your hands over his shoulders and circled his neck, running your fingers through the short hair there, eliciting a sound from him that was something between a sigh and a groan.

You were flush to each other now and even though you were sure he could feel your heart hammering against his, you weren't tense; whether it was the tequila or the feeling of his fingers toying with the hem of your dress, you were the most relaxed you'd been all night. His body against your own was easy, unforced, rhythmic. You were like two missing puzzle pieces put back together, not a hint of awkward tension or apprehension. You rocked and swayed to the beat as songs blended one into the next, though neither of your noticed, completely in your own world.

Occasionally your eyes would find each other, your noses mere centimeters from touching and you'd meet his electric gaze with your own before looking away - it was getting harder and harder to deny how badly you wanted to kiss him.

The next time it happened he caught you off guard by pulling you insistently into him, cheek to cheek, his lips brushing your ear to ensure he could be heard over the DJ.

"You've got to stop that" he said, low, deep, with a serious laugh.

You pulled back to meet his gaze, giving him a confused look.

"Stop what?" you asked earnestly.

"Looking at me like that" he said.

You smiled, tilting your head to look flirtatiously at him.

"I'm serious!" he said in a mock-threatening tone "If you keep looking at me like that, I'll have no choice but to kiss you.”

Your breath caught in your lungs, but you didn't flinch, didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, you pulled yourself closer to him, teasing him, taunting him, your lips just out of his reach.

"I swear to God" he mumbled against you, your final warning "Once I kiss you, I'm not going to be able to stop."

"Who says I'd want you to?" you replied, and before the last word had left your lips one of his hands left your waist and came to trace your jaw, your cheek, the cool touch of the ring on his finger in the heat of the moment sending an involuntary chill through your body as he grasped your face.

His lips melded against yours and you sunk into him in full abandon, not caring who was watching as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your lips hot and wet against his, your tongues finding each other immediately. He nearly lifted you off the ground in an effort to pull you closer to him, every inch of you alight as he grasped you bruisingly tight to him. Your body was an electric guitar and he was a goddamn rock star.

The ocean could have flooded the beach, washing the world away and you two wouldn't have let go of each other. You lost track of time as your hands tugged desperately at his shirt, as your fingers coursed over his short hair, as his hands roamed your body. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours before you parted, only for a second, as he took you in, his pupils blown wide, breathing heavily. He took in your cheeks flushed with desire for him, your lips plump and swollen, your chest rising and falling, matching his own.

"Well, fuck" he whispered against your lips, realizing just how far gone he already was for you.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @moremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller, @diary-of-jj, @crlsummer, @callsign-tangerine, @jjsbank444