#always thinking jeg thoughts

[calamitoustide]

yeah yeah Regulus pining after James as a child and James doesn’t notice him but James when he was a child constantly asking Sirius where his brother is and if he can come out to hang out with him and makes up some excuse as to why he’s asking for it so much James who when they started being friends constantly tagged after Regulus and if he was out with his other friends James just waited by the phone for his call James who is so pathetic when it comes to his love for Regulus literally everyone besides Regulus knows about it James who stares hopelessly after Regulus never asking for more because he’s not sure Regulus feels the same way and soothes himself by saying “at least we’re best friends” at least they have that kind of love

[c0mbatchameleon]

@jegulus-microfic April 21st, prompt: run, words: 1160, nsfw

aka regulus comes until he cries? that’s basically it yeah (+t4t jeg)

He shouldn’t cry.

It’s what Regulus has heard since—well, as early as he can remember. Crying is a vulnerability he can’t afford, a sign of weakness, and the Black family are anything but weak. Don’t be a baby, they’d say—to the literal fucking baby.

The last time Regulus cried was when he was 7 years old, he thinks—his mother certainly made sure he never did it again. And even long after he left that house behind, left his family and everything they stand for, found a new family, found a new home and new self unrestrained by hatred and abuse, transitioned, finally became comfortable with himself, his identity—after all of it, this is what he’s held onto. The belief that he shouldnt cry.

At least, it was what he held onto.

Now, as Regulus finds himself bent over the kitchen counter, nails dragging down the cool granite that he’s pressed flush against, he’s beginning to think crying isn’t so bad after all.

The tears started falling after his second consecutive orgasm, streaming freely down his face as he convulsed around James’ strap. James only slowed his thrusts to something deep and drawn out as he leaned forward and cooed, “That’s it baby, let it out,” hot breath cascading down Regulus’s ear and neck, hand stroking his hair gently. Languid kisses pressed down his neck and shoulder as he twitched and softly gasped in overstimulation.

He barely got a chance to catch his breath before—

“How ‘bout one more for me, yeah?” And just like that, James was drawing out and ramming back into him with a brutal pace. Regulus let out a choked gasp as his vision whited out, back arching, legs shaking. All he could respond was a tear-streaked string of oh fuck oh fuck oh fu—ah—please as James continued chanting soft praise and encouragement, railing him into a new fucking plane of existence.

That leaves him here, hurtling head first towards a third orgasm and choking on intermittent sobs and moans in rhythm with James’ thrusts. Each one is hitting that spot that sends a line of white-hot electricity up his navel, fraying his nerves until his entire body feels like an exposed wire. His hands grab for purchase on the countertop, unsuccessfully, as he tries to drag himself up, away, anywhere to put distance between himself and the onslaught of pleasure-pain that’s spreading like a fire across his whole body.

But James only digs his hand into Regulus’ curls and pulls, the other wrapped around the front of him so Regulus’ cock grinds into it with each movement of their hips. “Where are you trying to run off to, love?” he teases as his grip tightens and holds Regulus in place.

“Oh fuck— I can’t—“ Regulus’ own moan cuts him off, loud and lacking shame. “S’too much,” he whines.

“But you love it, don’t you?” Soft lips trace up behind his ear. “You don’t want me to stop, love, do you?” Regulus’ eyes roll back into his head. The hand presses down further on his cock and another sob escapes him. “C’mon, tell me how much you love it when I take you apart like this,” James coaxes, pulling him up further by his hair so that he has to balance on his forearms, his head falling back.

And, here, in this state of over-saturated, pure white static bliss where Regulus can barely distinguish reality, the world around him, anything other than James’ hands and James’ lips and James’ sweet-honey voice and James and James and James, the only thought he can form amidst the haze is the one James has supplied for him so graciously, so giving as always: that he loves it.

You love it, don’t you?

And Regulus does.

He loves having his walls taken down, brick by brick until he’s bare, surrendered to pleasure and to release. God, he fucking loves this release. The kind he never allowed himself before, the way it washes over his whole body and builds up like a dam, the way it flows in and out of him, completely open, running rivers down his face and sending shocks out from his core, chest heaving, bones melting, transcending his own body and yet more grounded in it than he’s ever been. He’s nothing but skin and shaking muscle and neuron and nerve ending and pure, unfiltered feeling, and, yes, he loves it. So, he does what he’s told and voices it, let’s it flow out of him like the rest of the dam, frantic and breathless.

“I love it, I—ah—oh—I love it, I love it I love it I—fuck—“

“That’s good, that’s right, fuck, you’re doing so well, baby. You look so pretty when you cry like this” James praises, breathless now, tone soaked in awe and pure adoration as he watches Regulus repeat the phrase like a mantra, an oath, a prayer, the words melting together to the point of near incoherence: I love it I love it Iloveitloveitloveitloveloveitloveit.

“That’s it, I know, baby,” he tugs on Regulus’ curls again, pulling him up against his chest. The new angle makes his cock drive deeper into Regulus, drawing a strangled moan out between his quick, gasping breaths. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

His fingers move in quick circles on Regulus’ cock, other arm wrapping around his shoulders to hold him up. “C’mon, let go for me one more time, Star.”

The simple order is all it takes. When Regulus comes, it’s with stars behind his eyes and tears flowing freely and a scream tearing through him, head hanging back on James’ shoulder, back bowed, clenching down on silicone as shudders rack through his body in waves. James works him through it with a slew of there you go and so good for me and so perfect and show me how good it feels, baby, that’s it.

He collapses back onto James, boneless, and breathes. Shakily. James squeezes him tight. All that concentrated flame has simmered and spread out into something soft and warm and buzzing all throughout his body. A small whimper escapes at the feeling of James pulling out, his core still throbbing around nothing.

James scoops him up easily, laying him down gently on the couch in the next room, and kneels down to cradle his face with his hands.

“Okay?” he asks softly, kissing Regulus’ forehead.

Regulus keeps his eyes closed and smiles in delirious dream-state bliss, just barely aware that he’s still sniffling. “Love it,” he mumbles, and James snorts as his thumbs swipe back and forth under his eyes. His head is still cloudy, his body floating somewhere with it. “Love you,” he adds dazedly.

“Always so sweet after you come,” James remarks. “Think if I get you to five next time you’d propose to me after?”

If Regulus had the energy, he’d roll his eyes. Instead, he reaches out and runs his hand through James’ hair, down the back of his neck, along the scars on his chest, down his arm where he grabs his hand and pulls it into his own chest, body curling around it like he’s hoarding it. James doesn’t seem to mind. “We’re already married, James,” Regulus mumbles. “I literally proposed.”

James chuckles softly, fondly. “I love you, too, Star.”

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?” 

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile. 

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

 “No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by. 

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair. 

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.08.2024]

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Long Shower [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You become an unwitting voyeur to Loki's post-workout routine. (w/c 2.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Voyeurism. Awkwardness. Thirst. Smuttish. M*sturbation. Language.

Shit shit shit shit shit You hurriedly crouched behind the row of lockers, hunched and contorted to an inch of your life. If you were honest, you didn’t think you were going to fit. And right now, you sort of wished you hadn’t. The air you’d sucked in felt like granite, holding your breath as Loki Laufeyson padded obliviously over the heated tiles.

Why am I such an awkward arsehole, you thought; lungs starting to burn. Can’t just say hello, excuse me; like a normal person. Need to hide behind the feckin’ lockers, Jesus.

The unmistakeable sound of his sultry singing had wafted down the hall like a hymn. 'Der ligger hun i sjøen, min elsker, Jeg hører henne rope når månen er høy' He was so absent-mindedly perfect, in every way. Fuck. You’d only come in to grab forgotten headphones, there was nothing untoward. And yet, when you’d heard his hypnotic gravelled voice– you had panicked. And now, it was too late. 'Hun kjenner ikke ledningene hun holder... som binder hennes hjerte til mitt' Silence. You opened one eye reluctantly, half expecting to see his magnificent form looming with sceptical disdain. But, no. He was bent on one knee facing the opposite wall, untying his trainers. I didn’t think he’d tie his own shoes, you frowned. That ass, though. Loki was dressed in skin-tight black workout clothes that left just enough to the imagination. And boy, had you imagined. That gym gear of his clung to every carved inch of his body like a second skin. Alongside the way that he growled and grunted through inhuman workouts, it was a miracle you had survived this long in the team. Lord above, the filthy things he had done to you in your head in the dead of night as you touched yourself beneath sweaty sheets. It might even make him blush. You bit your lip, blowing air gently, silently, through your nose. You suddenly felt twenty pounds lighter. The thought had often crossed your mind about just who Loki was behind closed doors. He was charming and polite, a bit extra – kind of an asshole sometimes. And he was always on. There had been a sign hanging in the hallway of your old high school which had read, ‘who you truly are, is the person you become when you think nobody's watching’. You thought about that sign a lot. Your gaze tracked up from Loki’s ankles, over the curve of his bulging thighs tight beneath the shorts; a sheet of damp curls hanging down past his neck. And who are you, Loki Laufeyson? He unfurled, the muscles in his calves hardening as he pushed up. The shoes were kicked aside as he ran his hands casually through that gorgeous hair with a sigh. Oh god, you realised with rising horror. Is he going to… Still facing the wall, Loki began to strip.

The damp lycra top was the first soldier to fall. It peeled away beneath crossed hands which raised achingly slowly above his head. With every inch of skin revealed, you felt the blood drain from your face. I’m going to pass out, you thought, pushing yourself back against the tiled wall and hoping it would absorb you. His broad, triangular torso was inescapable. You should close your eyes. Avert your gaze. Protect his modesty. But oh, god - Loki tugged the training top from his head with a strained grunt, wild hair falling in waves between shifting shoulder-blades. He stretched to the side, freshly pumped forearms bulging with sickening definition. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his iridescent skin. Fuck, how you wanted to lick him. Taste the virgin sweat that was gathered in every dip and valley. In the soft lighting of the changing rooms, every dented curve of his arms were visible, each breathe making the landscape of his back flex as he rolled his head from side to side. He has fucking...back-dimples. You realised you had been holding your breath again. Long fingers began to toy with the waistband of his shorts. Jesus take the wheel, not the shorts. They caught on the curve of his ass, elastic grazing sluttishly down taut skin. You pressed your lips together painfully to stop the whimper building behind your teeth as the shorts fell in a heap around his ankles. I’m fucked, you thought. He’s naked. And I’m fucked. All he had to do was turn around. But he didn’t. Loki took a step to the side, positioning himself with ceremonial purpose in front of a small square mirror. Blessedly, it was too far to the side to reveal your hiding spot. You watched as his brow furrowed, looking deep into his own eyes. If there was one thing more hypnotic than Loki’s body, it was his face. As deep and inscrutable as the galaxies themselves.

He brought a hand across his chest to the opposite shoulder, massaging the dip as he appraised what he saw against some inscrutable criteria. Loki’s endless legs widened, ass clenching. Your stomach had a heartbeat, whirring with unspent adrenaline. Of all the ways you imagined you would first see Loki naked – this was not it. The digits slid to his jaw, thumb and forefinger tipping it to either side as he inspected himself. Is he checking for wrinkles? With mild horror, you realised you couldn’t feel your legs. Loki frowned again, ropes of hard shoulder muscle rolling as he sighed deeply. It was a tired sigh. It made you wonder if a god-level workout was the only thing wearing him out in the morning. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away. Your eyes flew to the wall before firing shut, a primitive freeze response. This was it. The rumble of a shower spurting to life broke the silence, strong pressure from the fancy waterfall head pattering to the tiles below. The showers were to the far right, outside your frame of view. You let out the breath you were holding in staggered, soundless relief. Maybe I can get out while he’s distracted. Crawl out. On my fucking hands and knees like a pervert. You waited a few seconds until the water’s rhythm broke, a contented growl from Loki’s throat that made your pussy hum signalling that his ritual had begun. Like the aforementioned pervert, you craned forwards, peeking around the corner of the lockers. God, how your legs ached. Your eyes widened. Goddammm, Laufeyson.

Loki stood long and lean, water cascading from where the stream hit the back of his neck, all the way down his legs. Even in the shower, his posture was impeccable. He tilted his head back, lips parted as he let the fresh droplets soak his front. The curls you adored from afar had turned to an inky slick, tendrils winding over alabaster skin like an intricate tattoo. There was a quiet beauty about him like this. This was one of his few private moments, an oasis of calm in his otherwise simmering façade. He’s so fucking…beautiful, you pined; realising that your eyeline was dropping unforgivably down his naked body. The rounds of his ass glistened in the soft light, lucky droplets rolling over the curves of muscle which dipped in at the middle of each cheek. He shifted on his feet, the slap of water making you jump as he swivelled his midriff to the side. The baritone hum began again, a hauntingly beautiful melody. From this new angle, every ridge and valley of his abdomen came into view. Fluffs of bubbles ran down his slick skin at a snails pace, each trail lapping over the deep crevices of his adonis belt. Your breath hitched, drawing back behind the lockers so only the tiniest sliver of him was in view. Fat drips of water slid down his legs from hip to calf, relishing each second they spent grasped to his ethereal skin. The undeniable slick in your panties was becoming untenable, becoming an itch that you didn't dare scratch. Heat seeped through the fabric of your leggings as you squashed further back against the wall. Loki raked a hand through the jet mass of hair, shaking a clump as he smoothed it to one side. His eyes were closed, a dark fan of lashes pressed innocently against the delicate skin beneath. I’m going to go into cardiac arrest, you mused, making your peace as he raised one arm to brace against the tiled wall. His profile was in full view now, and for the first time, you caught a glimpse of the legendary cock which haunted your dreams. It rose against his flat stomach, hard and thick and ready to be fucked. Oh god. You swallowed, mouth drier than sand. No. No. No, this is not happening. You shook your head, trying pathetically to wake. The dull ache in your thighs had grown to a roar, muscles screaming to be released from the stress position you’d be holding for what felt like three hours. You felt your parched lips part as the god placed his palm against his obscene manhood, wrapping each straight finger singularly around the shaft with formidable intent. He licked his lips, looking down at it like prey. Like a conquest. The arm locked against the wall, fully outstretched, sliding the foot nearest you backwards a few inches. It squeaked. His bicep tensed as he pressed against the tile, running water continuing its steady beat against his perfect skin. And then, he began to pump. In slow, torturous strokes. Oh god. Loki’s pinky finger hit the sudsy patch of public hair around the base with every journey, squeezing his foreskin out at the tip as it reached the summit. This was not a man in a rush. This was a man with relaxation on his mind. What the actual fuck am I doing here. Your eyes squeezed shut again, slinking back. To be fair, you had more than enough material in the wank-bank to last you the rest of your days. So the next five minutes, then; you thought bitterly, as low moans of pleasure began to sink from the god’s lips. I will not survive this.

The sound mingled with the heavy steam filling the air, a heady scent of bergamot wafting as his erotic sighs and breathy groans reluctantly transcended you to a higher plane. Loki’s moans vibrated, rising and falling. He was shameless. Anyone could walk in, you thought incredulously; before realising the irony.

The god’s hips rocked into each swipe of his hand; fucking rhythmically against his fist as water cascaded over his neck and down chiselled abs. Clumps of soaking hair hung around his cheekbones, layered down his neck, down his shoulders. You hadn’t even realised you were staring at him again, rocking on the balls of your feet as your sweaty fingertips pressed against the floor in a trance. He was intoxicating. The way his brow creased. The way he was sighing gently from glistening lips. Droplets clung to his cheekbones, pacing downward before fainting to the porcelain below. He was completely in the moment, completely lost in himself. Who are you thinking about, Loki? Your heart was thundering, the acid collecting in your burning calves, forgotten. Loki released a ragged groan, taut obliques clenching. The muscles in his femurs tensed, his palm sliding down the wall as his whole body juddered. Long fingers that you fantasised about slipping deep inside you curled against the tiles. Please cum, you hoped ravenously; breaths quickening. Please, for the love of god please cum. “I know you’re there, Agent.” Cold dread rose with each slowly enunciated word, eyes widening as panic expanded like barbed foam in your belly. “Honestly," Loki smarmed, his head falling back with a rasping moan as he released himself with a final squeeze. “How you ever manage to conceal yourself in any undercover operation with all that heavy breathing is beyond me.” With an ungraceful gasp you fell forward, splayed on the heated tiles. Your forehead was pressed to the floor, mind racing as you carded through every possible excuse. None of them were plausible. With difficulty, you turned your cheek to the side to face him. “I’m sorry…” you mumbled, reluctantly pressing up and dusting off your leggings as your cheeks burned hot. “I didn’t mean to-I was just...and then you-” “-Look at me.” he said sternly. Your eyes fluttered up, hoping that the way you were gazing at him was penitent and seductive in equal measure. But he was smiling. Sort of. One side of Loki’s mouth twitched, the pressure from the waterfall shower bouncing outward from between his shoulder-blades as he stared you down. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. In that standard regally panty-wetting pose that you had admired many times while you raked every inch of his leather-clad body with covetous eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, and closed it again. “I plan on having a very long shower, Agent,” he purred knowingly, the inky curls pasted to his jawline making your stomach flip. He widened his legs, reminiscent of a battle stance. Your eyes fell to his perfect cock twitching neglected against his stomach and then back to his face. The clothes on your body felt heavier with every passing second. “Would you care to join me?” he said politely, as easily as offering you a cup of tea. He already knew the answer. He had known all along. Of course he knew, you mug. Your thighs squeezed together, biting your lip. Loki did the same, before stretching to a wide smile. Mischievous fire simmered in his dilated eyes. There was a click as the lock on the door slid shut of it’s own accord while you pulled your t-shirt over your head.

In the brief cover of darkness, you heard Loki moan again.

Loki's Song (aka nonsense I made up) There she lies in the lake, my lover I hear her call when the moon is high She does not know the cords she holds That bind her heart to mine

Tags (cont in comments) @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @imalovernotahater @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @gruftiela @glitchquake

[kasagia]

My love will never die

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x moon summoner! reader Summary: You knew Aleksander before he was a Black Heretic, a foldmaker. You married him and promised to be by his side through thick and thin. And you never, ever regretted your choice. However, one day, your paths parted in an unfortunate way, and you both believed that the love of your lives was gone forever. After many centuries, you meet again with a man very similar to your Aleksander. And you start to wonder... maybe your love never die after all? Warning(s): ANGST, de@th mention, the reader yearns for Aleksander, and Aleksander yearns for the reader :c I USED FRAGMENT OF THE SONG "Jeg Saler Min Ganger" FROM THE SERIES "LOKI" Nonsense from me: So this is request from @morrigan-crowmwell Thank you so much, I was super excited to write this! I hope this is more or less what you asked for and that you like it.♡♡ I'm sorry it took me soooo long! ♡♡ Word count: 13k

"Aleksander Morozova! You'll be late to meet your mother!" you squealed as he stole another long kiss from you. "We don't have time for this, Sasha." you moaned, when he moved his lips to your sensitive neck.

"Nonsense… I always have time to properly say goodbye to my wife before I leave." he murmured against your skin, sucking on your weak spot behind your ear. He smiled slyly, hearing the sweet moan coming from your red lips, swollen from kissing.

Saints, he could stay in your arms for the rest of eternity.

"As much as your wife loves your goodbyes, she'd rather her mother-in-law didn't wander in the middle of one, looking for her spoiled son."

"This is how you say goodbye to your husband, lapushka? Calling him spoiled and hurting his feelings?" he asked indignantly, hovering over his beautiful wife and looking at her intently. He wanted to burn the view below him into his mind until he was back in her arms again.

"I have been "goodbye-ing" you for three hours, Aleksander. Don't you think that's enough for a 4 day trip?"

"I need at least one more hour to enjoy you." he murmured, placing more kisses on your already-marked neck.

"If Baghra finds us…" you moaned as he bit your neck gently, effectively silencing you, and got out of your head all the reasons why he should go now.

"It would be helpful if you would stop thinking about my mother while I try to kiss every inch of your gorgeous skin. Besides, don't worry about her. She likes you—sometimes even more than her own son, I have to admit. If anything, she'll blame me."

"Don't worry, sobachka (puppy), you'll always be my favourite." you smirked, flipping him onto the mattress of your bed and straddling him, marking his skin with your lips, making sure you'd give him back the same favour.

"I thought we didn't have time for this?" he purred meanly, pleased with your attention.

"Shut up and kiss me, Sasha." you demanded with an equally malicious gleam in your eyes, knowing full well how this would end. Bagra was right. You had him wrapped around your little finger. Which was good considering how many female Grishas wanted to catch his eye.

"As you wish, milaya." without a second's hesitation, he grabbed your cheek and pulled you into a kiss, pinning you back under him on the mattress.

Disappointment, as usual, overtook you after waking up from this beautiful dream. During those few centuries, flashbacks about HIM only became more frequent. Someone should hang that fool who said time heals all wounds. In your case, it only made it worse.

You'd give anything to go back a few hundred years and not let him go alone with his mother on this trip. You didn't even remember why they went to Aleksander's sister.

You had a vague memory of that day, only remembering the morning with your husband and the fragments of the Fjerdans' attack on your village.

But the moment you found out you were a moon summoner will forever be etched deep in your memories.

You helped your best friend's family and herself escape when the men attacked you. You defended yourself using all the tricks and attacks Alexander had taught you, but it wasn't enough against a band of trained soldiers.

Just as he was about to slash his sword at you, you felt heat radiating deep from your chest. You screamed, falling to your knees as light began to emit from you, blinding some soldiers and killing those close to you. The first time you've used the cut and your power.

You escaped with your friend and her brother - the last survivors, and hid in the city, pretending to be siblings who managed to survive the great fire caused by Grisha.

It was hard to pretend to hate your own people and even harder to hide your new powers. But the hardest thing was going through all this without Aleksander by your side.

You tried to contact him, search in every possible way. But the world was different back then. Your attempts in advance were doomed to failure. And you knew it. But your stupid heart made you search for your husband until the end.

And you did. Until the news of the Black Heretic, the shadow summoner, who died while creating the fold, spread across the world.

You mourned Aleksander for a long time. Your life went on, but the wound of losing your husband never healed. And you knew it wouldn't. He was your great, true love. Your end game. It was impossible to let him go, to make place in your heart for someone new.

Time passed, and everything around you slowly changed. Except you. Your friends got old, grey, and wrinkled. And you remained the same as those decades ago. Then you discovered your second curse. You were immortal.

You and Aleksander could have lived together forever if not for Shu Han's and Fjerda's people.

It was the time when you vowed to finish Aleksander's work at any cost. His sacrifice will not be in vain. You were supposed to build a Ravka safe for the Grishas. All you needed was a sun and shadow summoner.

So you waited. At any sign of the sun summoner's presence. You knew Aleksander's lineage was fine. People often spoke of the descendants of the Black Heretic. You've never come close to them. You didn't want to relive the pain that would be associated with being with a member of his family. Aleksander had no children, but his sister probably did; maybe even Baghra found someone - you weren't sure about the old woman's fate.

The past centuries have not been kind to you. But this month was fruitful in terms of good news. The sun summoner has been found, the king of Ravka was ill, and your men were on the trail of Morozova's deer.

And that's how you were on your way to meet Alina Starkov and the descendant of the Morozovas, General Kirigan.

You were supposed to change the world together - in memory of your Aleksander.

~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander had never been in such a hurry to get home before.

He was so desperate to have you in his arms again that he even ignored all of his mother's taunts, remarks, and other snide comments. All that mattered to him now was coming home to you.

That's why he bravely endured his mother's teasing remarks as they rode horseback towards your cottage.

He was excited, only moments away from returning to the love of his life.

He missed you more than he dared admit to anyone. And he was a little ashamed of how an ordinary woman without Grisha's powers, like you, could have such power over him.

NO. You were not ordinary. You were his wife, friend, lover, support, rock, asylum, home. The only one to whom he entrusted his heart and soul voluntarily and without the slightest hesitation.

And with this gift his sister gave him, Aleksander will make sure you stay with him forever. That you'll live as long as he does. Neither of them, nor he, Baghra, nor his sister knew if this "gift" would work.

But Aleksander would be damned if he didn't try to keep you in his arms forever.

It didn't matter how many times he failed, trying to make you his equal, trying to turn you into a Grisha with similar powers to his. He was ready to do everything for you.

Aleksander sped up seeing your house. In his haste, he didn't even notice that he had lost his mother and that the scenery around him seemed to be getting darker and more frightening.

He practically leapt off his horse and raced to the door, opening it and rushing inside as fast as he could.

"Y/N?! Sweetheart, I'm home!" he shouted, expecting that as soon as you heard his voice, you would come running, throwing yourself into his arms.

But he was greeted by nothing but a terrible, deadly silence.

The scattered things in the corridor made him slightly anxious, but he dismissed his dark thoughts by saying that you were a little mess. However, after he still didn't hear any response from you, he started to worry.

He entered the living room only to find shattered furniture, an overturned bookshelf, and a broken window.

He panicked. He went mad with fear, screaming your name and running around the house like crazy, looking for you or any clues to where you might have run away.

His heart stopped when he found your battered body under an overturned wardrobe.

In the blink of an eye, he got you out from under the furniture and took you in his arms, trying to bring you back to consciousness.

"Y/N, please, Y/N, open your eyes! You can't leave me, not like that! Y/N! My sweet wife, my heart, please open your eyes!" he was shaking you in panic, begging all the saints to prove his dark suppositions wrong.

"Aleksander?" your quiet, tearful whisper both relieved him and broke his heart.

You lived. He hasn't lost you yet.

NO.

He couldn't lose you. He has to take you to the healer.

"Yes, love, it's me. Everything is fine now. I got you. Just stay with me until I get a help."

"You promised to protect me... why didn't you protect me, Aleksander? Have you stopped loving me?" your desperate whimper tore his soul in half. He began to shake all over, despising the feeling of helplessness and distress that had completely taken over him.

"What? No, I'll always love only you..." he felt your body suddenly go limp in his arms. He gripped your shoulders even tighter, shaking you in his panic attack. "Y/N? Y/N?! Y/N open your eyes! Y/N no! Don't leave me! Darling, no!" he screamed desperately in pain, burying his head in your hair and crying as he knelt on the floor and rocked with your cold body in his arms.

~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander sprang from his bed.

The general was breathing fast, trying to calm himself after another nightmare involving you.

His beautiful wife. His epic love.

For hundreds of years, the day he lost the only love of his life played out in his nightmares in different ways. This time, his subconscious was kind enough to let him talk to you for a while. Usually, he finds your body either impaled or dismembered. He never managed to save you. With none of those dreams.

His dreams might have macabred the events of that day, but he had never, in all those hundreds of years of his life, forgotten what really happened. He has not forgotten the grief, anger, sadness, and despair that overcame him when he and Baghra found their village burned to the ground without any trace of you.

Despite his search, he still didn't know what really happened to you, and he doubted he'd ever find out the truth. If all this had happened a few years later, if he hadn't been a boy just discovering the true power growing within him then, but the man he is now, you'd never despair like that. You'd never leave him to mourn over the future you two could have if only he was more powerful.

He was trying to fool himself. Telling himself that if you survived, you would have lived a much better life than you'd lived with him by your side. What could he have given you, then? An uncertain future, living in hiding, being hunted by the king's men? You were worth much more. You were worth all the jewels and treasures of this land, safety, peace, family, and happiness. Aleksander couldn't give you that. Not then.

He couldn't remember how many sleepless nights he'd spent wishing he could meet you now, to have you by his side, when he was this powerful man who could look after you properly, who would throw the world at your feet or burn it to the ground, depending on your humour.

But every time the sun came up and he had to continue playing his new role, the bitter reality made him realise that he would never have you again. He will never feel your soft skin under his fingers again, never lose himself in those beautiful, mesmerising irises, never run his hand through your hair, never take in your wonderful, intoxicating scent, and never taste your alluring, feisty lips again.

He was alone. And he will be until the end.

Until he widens the fold and makes sure no more Grisha dies at the hands of common otkazat'sya. That none of his people will repeat your fate.

He was supposed to change the world - in memory of his Y/N.

And then, maybe fate will be kind enough to reunite him with his beloved wife on the other side.

~•♤♤♤•~

Alina Starkov was a pain in the ass.

It took the girl only 15 minutes to run away from Kirigan's Grishas and get herself into trouble. She has damn luck that you decided to follow her and rescue her sunny ass.

You disappeared as soon as you made eye contact with her after you burned the Fjerdans with your pale, white light.

You wandered through the forest, cursing under your breath at the carelessness of both sun and shadow summoners. You didn't know which was worse, the impetuous girl or the thoughtless general who just let her get away.

With helpers like that, you'll have to work twice as hard to make the fold bigger. Fate really had no mercy on you.

You stood by the river, sighing in relief as you washed the blood from your face with cold water.

Your moment of peace didn't last long, however. You sensed an additional presence—someone creeping towards you. You took out one of your daggers and braced yourself for an attack.

But the moment you turned to face your opponent, you froze.

Aleksander...

He was standing in front of you. In a black kefta, a man so like your husband that just looking at him hurts you more than any blade could. This gaze, this face, were hunting you each night, every time you closed your eyes. And now he was standing right before you.

And the worst of it all was that it wasn't your Aleksander.

Only his descendant looking just like him. A shell that resembles the only man you've ever loved.

In your rage, you attacked him first, taking out your anger on him for the saints for continuing to play you mercilessly by putting your husband's doppelgänger in your way.

But Kirigan did not give up so easily. As soon as you moved towards him, he too snapped out of his strange daze and drew his dagger as well. The clang of metal echoed across the clearing as you both tried to find the other's weak spot. Oddly enough, you both did it at the same time.

"Put that down and I'll consider whether or not to spare your life." he growled, holding your arm in a tight grip as he felt your nails digging through the skin on his hand.

"Femoral artery. You'll bleed out faster than me." you replied with a malicious smirk, ignoring his threats.

"Who are you?"

"My mother taught me better than to make friends with the stranger freak in the forest, sir. Especially when they have a dagger dangerously close to my back." you kicked him, pushing him away from you, and attacked again. The clanking of steel against each other echoed across the clearing as your daggers met halfway. You growled in frustration, pushing him away.

"Your mother should teach you not to attack everyone you meet. You may encounter someone much stronger than you." Kirigan recovered faster this time, storming at you.

You ended up in a rather uncomfortable position as you held the steel against his heart and he wrapped his arm halfway around you, pulling you close. You didn't know if you were more dissatisfied with the metal digging into your chest or with his hands on you.

"And yours that you shouldn't raise a hand against a woman. I guess they both failed."

Did you both just say the exact same thing when you first met your husband? Yes.

Will he get lenient treatment from you just because he looks like your Aleksander? Absolutely fucking no.

Taking advantage of his moment of inattention as he stared at you distractedly, you pulled out the second hidden dagger and placed it against his neck. You tried to push his hand away from you, but the man, feeling the extra-cold blade against his skin, woke up from his trance and grabbed your left hand aggressively.

He moved your blade away from his neck and pinned you to the tree, slamming your left hand hard against the trunk, making the weapon fly out of your hand and bury itself in the ground near his foot.

Kirigan pressed his dagger to your side, leaning closer to you. He stared intently into your eyes, and for a brief moment you saw longing flicker in his dark eyes, which then gave way to rage and frustration, equal to the one that exploded inside you the moment you saw him. The moment you noticed that saints still played cruel with you by creating someone so damn similar to your husband.

He has no right to have the same face and eyes as your lost love.

"What. Are. You?" he asked, pausing on each word to intimidate you and bring his face closer to yours. But you didn't care much. You have hundreds of years; nothing, especially the doppelgänger of the man you love, could scare you.

You stared at each other with hostile eyes, and for some reason (other than your dagger at his thigh), he had some sort of hatred for you as well. So much so that he didn't notice how your powers reached for each other where your skin touched.

Strangely, it felt familiar to you. HE felt familiar.

You stared into each other's eyes as you unknowingly leaned in closer. You were about to try to break free from his grip when a sudden snap of branches caught your attention.

"That's you! She saved me from the Frejdans, sir." Alina's voice pulled him out of this strange moment between you two.

You wanted to find a sun summoner. You spent several hundred years on this, but the girl had hellishly bad timing.

Kirigan moved away from you, but you both continued to aim your daggers at each other, not trusting each other for a moment. Even though Alina just admitted that you saved her life.

"Why did you do that?"

"Someone so powerful like you should recognise when they stand before their equal, general Kirigan." you sneered, glancing for a moment at the woman standing next to both of you. Fortunately, nothing happened to her. She had a few scratches, but nothing that even the most ordinary medic couldn't heal.

"And how exactly are we equal?"

You smirked mischievously as you slipped the dagger into your sheath.

You linked your hands, focusing on the warm feeling of your light coursing through your veins, and without taking your eyes off the general's, you pulled them apart, revealing a thread of white light. You spread your arms wider, causing the rays to illuminate the clearing around you.

They both stared at you in amazement as your light turned into stars, which then arranged themselves into constellations. Figures of saints ran around you until you flicked your wrist to make them disappear.

"Melinoe Petrova. Moon Summoner. I think the three of us are going to change the world together."

You watched the speechless Alina with satisfaction, but your smile faded as you shifted your gaze to Kirigan. You had some difficulty reading him, but even more so understanding the longing in his eyes.

It seems your problems with a shadowman have only just begun…

~•♤♤♤•~

Kirigan didn't trust you.

You weren't surprised by it, but you hoped it would be easier for you to manipulate him. Apparently, the descendant of Aleksander inherited family cunning and distrust.

It's been a month since your little encounter (and fight) in the woods. In the meantime, you've been living in the Little Palace with the other Grishas; you met the king and got your own fancy kefta.

Black kefta. With moons, stars, and so on.

You wouldn't care about the colour of the fabric if it didn't turn out that only Kirigan wore one. Bloody Alina was the first to find Genya and get herself a blue one. So you stayed in your black kefta, pretending the general wasn't trying to mark you as his property.

But the son of a bitch liked your look in his colours too much for you to accept it.

It didn't help that he was too much like your Aleksander, either. Many times you've held back from taunting, making snide comments, or yelling at him just because those fucking dark eyes looked at you, taking you back hundreds of years to the time when HE was by your side and looked at you like that.

The similarity between them was not only in appearance. They had a lot in common when it came to character traits. Stubborn, mischievous, prescient, well-read... sometimes, when you spent too much time in his war room, you found yourself thinking of him as your Aleksander.

So slowly, despite all your self-loathing, you fell in love with the general.

That's why you were hiding from him in the library, hoping Alina, Zoya, or anyone else would keep him busy tonight enough to forget that you were supposed to meet him after dinner.

You had to suppress that stupid feeling. He was not Aleksander. He was just your husband's doppelgänger. Just a shell of your lover.

"Mel? Are you okey?" Alina's soft, concerned whisper snapped you out of your thoughts.

"I'm fine. Another nightmare?" you asked, patting the space next to you and opening the edge of the blanket for the girl to sit with you.

Your beginnings with Alina were not colourful; the sunny girl irritated you and could easily throw you off balance. But as time passed, you became friends to the point where you comforted her after her nightmares about the fold and the deaths of her loved ones. Sometimes you would read her old Ravkan fairy tales or sneak into the kitchen for hidden sweets. In more critical situations, you would drag her outside to the gardens, where you would sit on the pier by the lake, watching it gleam in the moonlight.

In a way, you too found solace in comforting the girl. It was nice to have company after being alone for so long. Fighting your past, which was showing up in your dreams, was easier with a ray of sunshine by your side.

"No. This time I can't sleep."

"Are you bothered by overly comfortable pillows, or maybe our princess felt a pea under the mattress?" Alina snorted, shaking her head. It took her some time to realise that your sarcastic remarks were not intended to offend her but merely to make her laugh.

"I'm thinking about Mal."

"Oh yeah… your boyfriend and childhood friend, what's up with him?" you asked, slamming the book shut to turn all your attention to the black-haired girl.

"He's not my boyfriend. We are only friends." she murmured, blushing, obviously awkward at your apt comment.

"Sunshine, I can recognise the face and eyes of a woman in love. You can't hide your feelings from me."

"Well, you're not the only one with this gift. Kirigan also gives you an infatuated man's look. Don't deny it! Even Ivan can see it. I think that already half of the second army knows about their general's fondness for the moon summoner." she teased you with a cocky smirk on her face. You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your book.

"Please, half of the Grishas look at me like that."

You knew what Alina meant. Kirigan looked to you as the solution to his fold problems - as did the other Grishas. Little did they know that instead of being their saviour, you gonna be their worst nightmare... a White Heretic.

"No, not in that way. They look at you, at us, as saints, as saviours who can destroy the fold. He admires you, not your power. And judging by the fact that you're still wearing a black kefta, he's not indifferent to you either."

You inadvertently snuggled deeper into the black material. Alina was partly right; maybe you didn't want to get involved in any romance, but it would definitely be easier to manipulate the general who is infatuated with you. You could have taken advantage of the fact that seeing you in his colours put him in a strangely pleasant mood. You've used your black clothes more than once as a weapon in your negotiations with the dark general.

"I have a black kefta because some irritatingly fast sun summoner found Genya first and got herself a dark blue one. You didn't leave me much choice, Alina."

"How sorry I am for that. By the way, Kirigan asked about you. He waits in his chambers, longing to finally see you after you've been ruthlessly ignoring him all day."

"I'm not done with you, Starkov!" you shouted after her, but the girl was already at the door, sticking her tongue out at you.

"See you in the morning, Petrova! You will tell me about your meeting with the General." she said as she walked away, slamming the library door.

"That little bitch." you muttered under your breath, wondering if you should go. You could have lied to him and said that you didn't meet Alina and forgot about your meeting. You only doubted the sun summoner's loyalty to you...

However, you started gathering your things, knowing full well that you would have to leave the library anyway.

You frowned as you heard soft footsteps behind you that probably no normal human would have heard… at least not one who hadn't lived at least a hundred years of hiding and running.

"Ivan." you greeted him without turning to face him. The man stopped, obviously surprised that you sensed his presence. However, he quickly returned to his unemotional mode.

"Miss Petrova. The General requests your presence in the war room."

"I was on my way." you replied, knowing full well that the man knew the truth. More than once, he chased you around the Little Palace at the general's behest. Fortunately, he had enough sense in his head not to make Kirigan aware that your memory was reliable and you didn't meet him only out of your own reluctance (actually, a huge desire to see him). "Alina just told me he wants to see me."

Ivan nodded and waited for you to escort you to the war room.

~•♤♤♤•~

Considering the fact that you were a regular visitor to Kirigan's war room, you should know the way to his chambers. But each time, you seemed to take a completely different route than the last time.

Ivan had to repay your elusiveness by making the longest trips to the general's room.

But this time, heartrender quickly dropped you off at his general's door and, wishing you good night, disappeared into one of the corridors.

You sighed, not wanting to face your growing infatuation and subsequent attempts to manipulate the general into carrying out your plans today.

You opened the door, entering the "vestibule". You pricked up your ears as you heard Kirigan talking to someone very familiar. Zoya.

"You used to call on me. On times like this. Your table wasn't messy, and in bed, it was me instead of these books. I can help you make it all right. Just let yourself relax." without knowing why, you wanted to go in there and interrupt whatever plan she had to seduce him. And not because you felt jealousy eating you up inside. You were supposed to be the one to lead him by the nose to do whatever you wanted. Not that windy bitch who was ruining your plan.

"I shall relax when my moon summoner comes here to help me with this. With her by my side, you don't need to worry about me anymore. I'm with the perfect helper." you chuckled internally, wanting so much to see the look on her face after he had rejected her. You figured this would be the perfect time to step in.

"Am I disturbing?" you asked as you walked inside.

If Zoya was an inferni, the general's room would probably go up in flames at the sight of you. Kirigan, on the other hand, seemed very pleased to see you. His eyes were focused only on you. And your black nightgown, over which you threw on (also the black) kefta he ordered.

"Not at all. Zoya was about to leave a few minutes ago."

"General." he said. Kirigan did not even glare at her as she bowed to him. She walked past you, giving you a hostile look, which you only smirked at.

"Didn't you forget something?" Kirigan's sharp question broke the silence between the three of you. Zoya stood immobile, as if engraved. She stared at the general for a moment, then clenched her hands into fists and bowed to you.

"Miss Petrova." she growled, then stormed out of the war room, slamming the door.

"It wasn't necessary. You'll only infuriate her more by forcing her to show me respect." you said, turning to face the general, who was suddenly right behind you. He was the only one who could sneak up on you. A skill he used extensively.

"You're the moon summoner… you'll get all the respect you deserve. I'll make sure about it." he murmured, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You can't make people do it. Respect is something that has to be earned, something that has no meaning if it is given involuntarily." his silence surprised you. He usually answered your words with 10 of his. But now he was staring at you silently, which didn't help your already fast-beating heart. "So what do we have on the agenda today, general? Arguments about whether we really need First Army soldiers or you don't know where Loavana is."

"I know where Loavana is. I was tired then, and besides, you were the one who turned the map and misled me."

"Of course, general." you snorted, smiling teasingly. You moved to the other side of the table, tactically increasing the distance between you. "So, did you summon me for any reason other than staring at my natural glow? Because honestly, I'm getting a little bored." you said as you sat down on the table and casually reached for one of the orders he had written.

"Always impatient." he muttered, suddenly appearing in front of you and gently taking the paper from your hand.

"Always too mysterious."

"This may surprise you, but I have other things on my mind than your natural glow, little moon."

"What a shame." you murmured, placing your hand over your heart in a hurt gesture. But you became serious when you saw him staring dully at the map. "What's bothering you?"

"The Fjerdans have moved closer to our border."

"How many?" you asked, jumping off the table and turning your full attention to the distressed general.

"Several branches. Enough to get our attention and attack one of our regiments." he replied, pouring himself a glass of liquor and handing you your own.

"We need to speed up Alina's training. Before all hell breaks loose and our great king orders our troops to be divided to fight the Fjerdans. The fold case must be finally closed. Before we go to another war. For now, we have to send some of our healers and additional troops there. If there are more of Grishas there, no Fjerdan will dare attack them. They will shift their attention to the soldiers of the first army, and this will no longer be a direct problem for us." you turned to him, confused by his silence. Kirigan stared at you with a gentle, tender smile on his face and a longing, dreamy look. The silence between the two of you and the gaze he was giving you embarrassed you. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?"

"No." he grunted, shaking his head as he blushed slightly when you caught him staring. "I just... I was fighting this war alone for so long."

This was the moment. You had to cast your net over him, surround him at his most vulnerable, and make him fall for you.

But you forgot to guard your own heart in the process...

You grabbed his hand. Your powers combined as usual when your skin touched, causing you to be enveloped in the utter darkness of his shadows, with only the white light emanating from your joined hands illuminating your faces.

"You're not alone." you whispered, afraid to break the spell between you. Afraid that the moment your voice reaches him, those damn hypnotic eyes will tear away from yours. Afraid your mind is about to scold the stupid heart that beat for the man before you. A man who, for the sake of your sanity, was too much like the husband you loved.

"I've been waiting a long time for you." he replied just as quietly, afraid to break the sanctity of the moment. Afraid it was another of his cruel dreams where he would have your dead body in his arms again. But the reality was even more brutal for him. Because the woman who stood before him, the woman who looked exactly like his wife, wasn't her at all. And that didn't stop his cold, centuries-old heart from beating for her.

"Believe me, not as long as me." you whispered. Tears began to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill out as he raised his other trembling hand and cupped your cheek. The feel of his cold hand on your face made you realise what you were doing. He was not Aleksander. He wasn't yours. And you will never be his. "I think I should go." you grunted, stepping away from him.

His shadows returned to him, as did your light. Everything has returned to normal. Except for the frantic beating of the hearts of the two of you.

"Don't forget about tomorrow's ball. We're supposed to put on a little show for the king and his nobility."

"How could I forget that we're supposed to be circus monkeys tomorrow?" you asked with a pugnacious smirk, to which he just shook his head in amusement.

"Don't let anyone else hear it. I don't want to visit you in a dungeon… however tempting you look in chains." his bold suggestion shocked you, but you decided to play on without giving him a chance to have the last word. You walked over to him and, ignoring his intense gaze, whispered in his ear with your lips brushing his earlobe.

"I'm not that easy to put in chains, general." you brushed his cheek with yours and disappeared from the war room at the speed of light.

It was something you could do. Game, flirt, chase, challenge—all kept away from any emotion other than lust. It was a game. Manipulation game. And you were going to win it. For your Aleksander and other Grishas.

~•♤♤♤•~

Your dress was so beautiful and wonderful. You admire Genya's skills, but what she did for you this time was indescribable.

With trembling hands, you smoothed the fabric of the dress around your waist, admiring the intricate embroidery of the constellations. The white and silver threads shone in the candlelight like real stars on your dark blue dress.

You didn't like getting dressed up, getting your hair up in a fancy hairstyle, or wearing those uncomfortable ball gowns. In fact, you've only worn formal clothes a few times in your life. But only twice did you feel like a true goddess, a queen. Today and on your wedding day.

"Who put that veil on you?" Baghra's grumpy tone snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You had a lovely dress, even considering that neither you nor Aleksander and his mother had as much money compared to other families. But it didn't matter. Not for you. The most important was Alexander and you. And not the judgmental looks of other people. It was your day and no one could ruin it for you.

"Myself. Something's wrong?"

The woman sighed as she walked over to you and unfastened it with unusual delicacy for her, mumbling something about your blindness as she adjusted your crooked veil.

"Now. You look almost properly. You're missing one thing."

"Which is?"

She reached into the pouch strapped to her side and pulled out something shiny. She gestured for you to turn towards the mirror. You did it while watching a woman put the most beautiful necklace you've ever seen around your neck.

"Bagra is… it's wonderful. I can't…"

"Yes, you can. And you will be. I won't let that old hag gossip about my daughter looking like a poor peasant on her wedding day."

"Thank you." you whispered in a shaky voice, more concerned that the woman called you her daughter than the ridiculously expensive and beautiful necklace.

"Come on. Don't cry, or you'll turn red and scare everyone, including my son. You'd better hurry up. The boy is about to have a heart attack if you're another minute late. If it wasn't for Ulla, he would have run here 10 minutes ago."

"Did she manage to come?" you asked as she took your arm with the obvious intention of walking you down the aisle.

"Of course. That's my daughter. She wouldn't waste the opportunity to tease her crazy-in-love brother." you giggled, not missing her little smile. The woman stopped right in front of the exit door, giving you a serious look. "Y/N, are you absolutely sure you want this? You know our true origins, my boy's character, and all the dark things our family has been through. Are you absolutely sure you want to join this mess? 'Cause once we walk through that door, there's no turning back."

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Baghra."

"No. I need to hear it. Do you truly want this?"

"I dream of nothing more than marrying Aleksander, and spending my whole life with him, no matter how long or short it may be."

The woman nodded silently and opened the door.

A wide smile appeared on your face as soon as your gaze met the clearly nervous Aleksander. He calmed down the moment he saw you, an equally goofy, in-love smirk playing on his lips. And when he finally had you at arm's length, he didn't hesitate to grab your hands in his firm grip, never taking his eyes off yours for a moment.

It was just you and him. Lost in your love.

And so began your little eternity together... shorter than either of you would have liked.

You'll always remember that day, even if it was associated with bittersweet memories of your all-too-short marriage. A single tear fell from your eye. You wiped it with the sleeve of your dress.

Your hand automatically wandered under your dress, absently stroking the Baghra's necklace to which you had attached your wedding ring. The only memento of your past.

In another life, you and Aleksander could have had it all.

"Little moon? Are you ready?" Kirigan entered your room." We're going... soon." you could see in the mirror how he froze as his eyes met your reflection in the silver mirror.

You turned to him, making a sweeping movement with your skirt. You wouldn't waste your chance to be a diva. However, you yourself soon succumbed to a similar blackout as his as soon as you assumed the general's appearance.

The saints really liked to torment you.

There was no other explanation for why the man in front of you looked almost exactly like your husband on your wedding day.

Aleksander couldn't take his eyes off her. She was perfect. Ethereal, otherworldly, and breathtaking. His Y/N... No. She wasn't her. No one could be her, not even a woman with her face. Which didn't stop him from giving himself to this dream that it was his wife standing in front of him. He spent hundreds of years in suffering; maybe this one night he can afford to live in his most beautiful dreams, where SHE would still be with him.

He cleared his throat, snapping you both out of the strange, nostalgic atmosphere.

"You look amazing." you blushed as you turned back to the mirror, pretending to consider the truth of his compliment.

"Thank you. Genya makes wonderful dresses." you reached for the kefta thrown over the armchair, but the man beat you to it.

"Please, allow me." you nodded to him. You turned your back to him, waiting for him to put the kefta on your shoulders.

He smoothed it out, letting his hand brush the fabric of your bare collarbones for a moment too long. You shivered as you felt the tiny touch of his fingertips on your bare skin. Good thing the kefta covered most of your bare arms. You didn't want to give him satisfaction for how he was affecting you.

But judging by his dilated pupils, you weren't the only one who felt the attraction between the two of you.

However, you will definitely not be the one to give in to such trivial desires. He was not Aleksander. Nobody could.

"Thank you again." you murmured as you pulled away from him, smiling. You preferred to act oblivious to his advances rather than risk giving in to the lust that was evident between the two of you. Although you knew there would come a point in your little game where you'd have to seduce him a bit to lull his guard down. And you feared that moment more than entering the fold.

"Anytime, love. Shall we?" he asked, offering you his arm. "I hope you spare me at least one dance." he murmured, smiling at you with that flirty twinkle in his eyes as he kissed your hand.

Wonderfully. Now he was supposed to be your personal bodyguard for all night.

You sighed, grabbing his arm. Kirigan pulled you closer as he escorted you through the maze of corridors.

It was going to be a really tough day. - you thought, allowing yourself to steal a glance at the general who was already watching you. - Especially with those eyes so focused on me.

~•♤♤♤•~

The Kirigan left you alone for a moment just before entering the ballroom. You were to wait for him and Alina, and then the three of you were to give little shows of darkness and light.

So you waited patiently until someone bumped into you, knocking you to the floor.

"Watch where you walk!" you growled, dusting yourself off as you got up off the floor. The hooded figure stopped and turned to you. You both froze when you saw your faces.

"Y/N?" Baghra asked in disbelief. "It is impossible." she whispered, coming closer to you and catching your hand in a strong, bruising grip, only to grab your necklace later, which had slipped out from under your dress after you fell. She looked at him tenderly, shifting her gaze to you.

"Hello mom." you whispered uncertainly, fearing your mother-in-law's reaction. She liked you, it's true, but in the meantime, you managed to disappear without a trace for hundreds of years. You didn't know what your relationship was like now. But rather, neither of you could be hostile to the other.

"It's really you… But how? I… we thought you were dead, child. Where have you been all this time?"

"A little here, a little there. Forgive me for not writing or coming. I think you understand perfectly well why I didn't."

"Not even a bit, actually." she replied, confused. You frowned. You've never seen Baghra confused. It was a strange sight, to say the least, and definitely worth remembering.

"You know how dear he was... Aleksander is to me. After his death..."

"Death?" she asked. You didn't know if you misheard or if the surprise in her voice was genuine. She rather knew about his death, didn't she?

"Yes. While creating a fold." you explained, looking at her intently. But Baghra's face never betrayed anything. Not any single emotion. She tucked the necklace under your dress and grabbed your shoulders.

"Oh, my dear child. For all this time..."

"Baghra!" Kirigan's scream echoed through the empty corridor. The woman stepped back from you like she was burned, watching the general with contempt as he approached the two of you. "What are you talking about with my moon summoner? I hope she didn't bother you too much, Miss Petrova."

"Not at all. Actually…"

"I was just leaving, moi soverenyi." the woman interrupted you, giving you an enigmatic look, before she turned her back to you two. "Enjoy yourself, Miss Petrova." she threw over her shoulder as she walked away.

"Crazy woman. But he teaches the young Grisha well. What did she want from you?"

"Nothing special. She asked where I was from and what I was doing here. I don't think she's heard of the new moon summoner yet."

"Probably you are right. Let's go. We've got a show to play."

He took your hand gently and led you to the centre of the room, where Alina was already waiting for you.

You had a simple task. Kirigan summons shadows. Alina, on the other side of the room, her golden rays, and you, the white moonlight that was supposed to connect with her powers, then break up into several constellations.

A child's trick and spectacle for the common folk who treated you like toys all rolled into one.

Everything was going smoothly. Suddenly, the room was completely dark. You waited patiently for Alina's light to appear on the other side of the room. When suddenly someone approached you from behind.

"It's okay, it's me. It's just me, you're safe."

"What are you doing?" you asked as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, taking both of your hands in his.

"Don't you think this is the best place to watch the whole show?" his question confused you. You turned in his arms, miraculously seeing those bloody, dark eyes in the darkness. The mischievous sparks both made your chest feel warm and terrified. The bastard was up to something.

"I doubt it; with my light, you'll barely see Alina's trick."

"Works perfectly for me, my little moon." he whispered against your ear. You tensed as you felt his soft lips on your earlobe.

Suddenly he leaned in, the tip of his nose tracing a path from your ear down your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he inhaled your perfume and those damn distracting lips slid from your ear to your neck.

He started placing small, wet kisses there. Your brain has melted. It stopped working while the general was kissing every sensitive spot on your neck. He read your body so damn well that if it weren't for his quick reflexes and his hand over your mouth, your loud, obscene groan would have echoed in the darkness of the ballroom.

You felt the light involuntarily escape from you and thanked all the saints that you lost control just as Alina finished her part.

You tried to push the shadow summoner away from you, but your attempts were so futile (and reluctant) that you quickly gave up, focusing on doing your job with his intoxicating mouth and roaming hands on you.

The son of a bitch was lucky to stay in the shadows, unseen by anyone but you.

You internally cursed yourself for how much easier it was to do the whole trick with him around.

To your great disappointment, he moved away from you just before the grand finale. You were panting, trying to calm your wildly beating heart, and breathing as the light began to take over the ballroom.

And those fucking dark eyes and smug smirk were the first damn thing you saw when you and Alina lit up the room.

People started applauding. Kirigan came up to you and grabbed your hand, and after Alina joined you, you bowed to everyone, gathering an ovation. You glanced briefly at Kirigan, who was staring at your neck. You just hoped he didn't leave a hickey in plain sight. But judging by the way his smirk widened and the way he ran away from you as soon as you were surrounded by a crowd of people, you assumed you had a new, not-so-visible yet bruise on your skin.

You'll kill him as soon as you get your hands on him.

~•♤♤♤•~

You stand in the darkness of his war room, waiting for him to finally appear. You played with the dagger in your hands, contemplating meeting Baghra. You felt something was wrong, something was missing. The woman's behaviour both helped you and, after the general's arrival, gave you a lot to think about. She was hiding something. But what?

you sighed. If only Aleksander was here. It would save you a lot of trouble. Among other things, intimidating his doppelgänger, who started to stick to you too much - much to your tacit approval.

But you were aware that this attraction was only due to his resemblance to your Aleksander. In a few decades, Kirigan will die too. And you will be completely alone again.

The sound of his boots hitting the floor snapped you out of your thoughts. You braced yourself for an attack and jumped on him just as he flanked the door and stepped inside. You pinned him against the wall with a dagger to his neck as he gave you a surprised, amused look.

"Hello, moonlight. Do you like the ball?"

"What the hell was that?!" you growled, pressing the blade against his skin as you made a small, harmless cut.

"You put a dagger to my neck far too often, darling." he noted, frowning as droplets of blood decorated the silver metal.

"Don't change the fucking subject! You have no damn right to act like this. Lay your hand on me like that again, and I'll make sure you don't have anything to summon your shadows with, general."

"So my lips on your incredibly alluring soft skin were no problem for you, my sweet moon?" he asked maliciously, raising an eyebrow. You growled, irritated by his arrogance. You guessed you preferred it when he responded to your attack with his own dagger.

"Do that again, and you won't live to see another moment to find out."

"You forget..." he mumbled, suddenly grabbing your hand holding the blade and wrapping his other around your neck. He pinned you against the wall, making sure there was no space between you two. "That you're not the only one with power here."

"You'd better let me go, little shadow, before you unleash hell you can't stop." you growled, summoning your light, which immediately met his shadows. You fought, jostling with your powers and staring hard into each other's eyes. You weren't going to lose this fight.

"You underestimate me, darling. I'm more than able to face any of your hell."

You didn't know why, but that sentence, the confidence in his eyes, the arrogance in his voice, and the same immense need that was hiding under both yours and his mask of restraint changed something between you two.

His already dark eyes were practically taken over by black pupils that stared at you lustfully. The intoxicating smell of his perfume, the warmth of his body, and those damn big, cool hands on your hot skin only made you accept your spur-of-the-moment decision.

With his hand still tightly wrapped around your neck, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

You both groaned in unison. Your only consolation in this situation was that before your hands hooked on his strong arms, holding on tightly for fear your legs would give out, you could hear his dagger first drop to the marble floor, seconds before your blade.

You only broke apart for a moment before quickly removing the other's kefta and catching the other's lips again. You fought for control, biting into the other's lip every now and then, which only met with more resistance and the will to fight. Neither you nor he were made to lose.

At one point, he grabbed you by the waist, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you to the nearest flat surface—the war table. With one flick of his hand, he swept all the maps, papers, and other stuff off him onto the floor and practically threw you onto a wooden table.

You gasped in shock as your body suddenly hit the wood, which Kirigan quickly took advantage of. He dug into your mouth, his tongue grazing yours as he tried to dominate you once again.

You growled, grabbing the back of his black shirt and tearing the fabric to get to his skin, where you didn't hesitate to leave blood crescents in the shape of your fingernails.

He hissed away from your kiss-swollen lips and bit into the same damn spot on your neck where he had dared leave a hickey before.

Aleksander...

You froze. It wasn't Aleksander. It will never be your Aleksander again. No matter how damn similar they were.

Kirigan continued to kiss your neck when you finally decided, with a heavy heart, to push him away with a gentle kick.

You both stared at each other, gasping for breath. Kirigan took a hesitant step towards you and raised his hand to gently stroke your cheek. But you jumped off the war table before his skin could touch yours and start your kissing session all over again.

You had to escape from there. As soon as possible.

"I... I should go." you mumbled, shoving past him to pick up the kefta that had been thrown on the floor by him.

"Wait a second..." he followed you but stopped the moment his eyes met yours again. You both wanted each other. You were both held back by the very same thing that attracted you in the first place.

"We have a hard day tomorrow. Make sure Ivan wakes up Alina; she's not such an early riser after all." you mumbled in panic, backing towards the door.

"Melinoe." he tried to stop you, but your hand on the doorknob was faster. You opened the door, and without looking back, you threw over your shoulder:

"Good night, general."

You ran to your room, and before anyone could stop you, you shut the door. Tears began to flow freely from your eyes as you slid to the floor.

For a moment, a fleeting little moment, you were Y/N again. You were that 20-year-old girl kissing her husband again. But Kirigan could never be Aleksander. And even if you gave him your heart, he would shatter it to pieces over time when he, like other descendants of your Aleksander, reached old age. You were doomed to be lonely. But the fact that a person with eyes, a face, and a mind so like your husband was at your fingertips wasn't helpful to your already broken soul at all.

You just wanted to have your husband in your arms again. Was it so much for the saints to accomplish? You sobbed piteously until you fell asleep on the floor from exhaustion.

Little did you know that a few floors above you, someone was also mourning their dead significant other. And he also cursed fate for putting in his path a woman so similar to the one for whom he would give everything he held dear.

One thing was certain. The longer you stayed in the presence of the other, the more you lost your mind. But neither of you was ready to deprive yourself of the toxic pleasure of seeing the living face of your beloved, lost spouse.

~•♤♤♤•~

As planned, the next day you headed towards the border with Fjerdans. Neither you nor the general spoke to you most of the way, which Alina and Baghra noticed. Yes. Baghra went with you. The general was just as shocked as you, but surprisingly, he didn't argue with the woman about her unannounced presence.

The only thing you were afraid of during this trip was crossing the land where your village used to be. Aleksander's house and yours. It also didn't help that you were supposed to be there on the exact anniversary of his death - the creation of the fold.

You thought it would be easier for you to ride a horse through the only place where you were happy, but the wave of memories flooding you did not allow you to pass by indifferently.

"You'll never catch me!" you run away from him, laughing.

"If I catch you, the game will be over. But since you're insulting my capabilities…" you yelled as you ran away when Aleksander rushed to you.

You ran along the river, looking over your shoulder every now and then to make sure your boyfriend wasn't right behind you.

Suddenly, a cloud of shadows appeared in front of you, from which your Sasha came out and grabbed you by the waist. You thrashed in his embrace, causing you both to fall to the ground, laughing.

"Aleksander! You shouldn't use it in public!" you scolded him, punching him lightly in the chest.

"We are in the middle of the forest. There are only us and some animals."

"Still it is risky for you. Don't make me tell your mother about this."

"Could you please stop threatening me with my own mother?" he groaned, throwing you off him, to which you squealed indignantly. You stared with your daggers at the man lying before you with a mischievous smirk and an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Since I found out she likes me and trusts me more than you? No, it's too funny, my grumpy shadow-man." you laughed. You rolled your eyes as you watched his expression growl. You climbed on top of him and kissed the crease that had formed between his eyebrows from your comment. "I'm soooo sorry, Sasha. You know how much I love you, right? You're the most important person in my life, Aleksander Morozova."

"And you in mine, Y/N Y/L/N." he murmured, grabbing your cheek and pulling you into a sweet, slow kiss. You purred, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours - something you'll never get tired of. He pulled away from you far too quickly. He licked his lips, looking at you nervously. You raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "Y/N... can I ask you a question?"

"Right now? I thought you gonna kiss me a little longer, but if it's so important." he chuckled, shaking his head, as he leaned down to catch your lips in a kiss again.

"Happy, lapushka?"

"Not really, but I'll try to survive a few minutes without your lips on mine." he chuckled, but you knew from the features of his face and the gentle clasping of his shoulders that something was bothering him. You just hoped he wouldn't have to leave with his mother again... "What did you want to ask me?" Aleksander cleared his throat, taking your hands in his trembling.

"You know that I love you. I can't imagine how my life would have turned out if you hadn't put that dagger to my throat five years ago right here."

"I knew I recognized this place from somewhere." you cut him off, looking around the clearing. Aleksander laughed, catching your attention again as you blushed at how stupidly you interrupted him. But it seemed to help him relax, judging by the way his hand confidently reached out to cup your cheek.

"You make me laugh. Even on the darkest, worst of days. Just one look at those wonderfully beautiful eyes is enough to completely change my mood. One word from you and all my plans and beliefs fall into oblivion. You are the light in my darkness. The only good thing that happened to me. The only person who isn't afraid of what I can do. The only person who looks at me with such adoration despite my shadows."

"You know I love them. I love all of you, Sasha. Nothing will change that." you replied with tears in your eyes, suspecting what his confession would lead to.

"I know I have nothing worth you and that the life I can offer you is nothing compared to what you deserve, but you know me better than I know myself... I would go crazy if I wasn't the only man who has the privilege of seeing your face first thing every morning and falling asleep in the presence of your beauty. I'd go crazy if someone else could be called yours..." Aleksander took a simple gold ring with a small black gem from his pocket.

You gasped, knowing full well how much money he must have spent on even such a simple engagement ring. Baghra was supposed to skin your fiancé when she figured out what he wasted their money on.

"Sasha..." you whispered, crying, moving your gaze towards him.

"Y/N, kei onolich yash (will you marry me)? Will you be my wife?" too moved to answer him, you pulled him into a kiss. You both smiled like idiots. "I'm guessing it's yes then, but I'd rather hear it from you before I tell everyone else."

"Yes. Yes, I will marry you, you idiot. You didn't have to buy me a ring, Sasha. I would say yes without it."

"I wanted to make sure you wouldn't reject me." he replied with a mischievous smirk, putting it on your finger. You huffed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. The ring sparkled in the moonlight. Your face hurts from smiling. "I promise you, Y/N one day I'll give you the prettiest, flashiest ring in all of Ravka."

"And I will still prefer the one you gave me today." you replied without a second of hesitation, pulling your fiancé into another kiss.

The Kirgian ordered a stop, which everyone accepted with gratitude. And when others Grishas dispersed to their tasks, you decided to go to the place where your house and Aleksander's once stood.

Since you were already a stupid girl, as Baghra so nicely called you, this little trip shouldn't hurt you. You'd rather be stupid and crazy—completely mad from love—than ever forget about Aleksander and move on.

And that's how you got here. By the river, close to the place where you used to be the happiest in the world, and now you were shedding a sea of tears over the life you lost.

"I will build you a palace."

"What?" you asked, giggling as you looked away from the stars to your husband lying next to you on the grass.

Sensing the movement of your head, he turned around to look at you closely. You both loved nights like these. Your hands intertwined as you both lay on the ground looking at the stars and talking about your day, your plans, and your dreams. It was a sacred ritual between the two of you that you performed at least once a week.

"A palace. For you and our future children. A safe place where we can live with our little family."

"Sasha... I don't need a palace to feel safe with you. You are my shelter. My protector. What we have now is more than enough."

"That little hut where we barely fit in with our stuff, even though we don't have much anyway? NO. You deserve all the treasures of this world, Y/N" he murmured, stroking your cheek tenderly.

You sighed, pressing your cheek against his hand, enjoying every ounce of his attention. It's been getting more and more dangerous around here lately. You seldom had time to spend together; you were too busy with the Grisha needing your help. But you didn't mind. As long as Aleksander's eyes gave you that loving, adoring look at least once a day, you were ready to face anything to get back into his waiting arms.

"I already have one." he raised an eyebrow questioningly, looking at you in surprise. You just smiled, pulling him to you by the chin and connecting your lips in a kiss. Aleksander rolled over and hovered over you, not breaking your tender kiss. You placed your hands on his cheeks and gently pulled him away, looking into his eyes. No stars in the sky could match the brilliance of his dark irises. "You are my treasure. With you by my side I want nothing more. You're all I need to be happy, Sasha." you mumbled, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. Aleksander buried his face in your hands, closing his eyes for a moment and surrendering to this tender gesture.

"You deserve much more, milaya. And I promise, by all the saints and stars in the sky, I'll give you the world."

"Everything in time, Aleksander. Now, kiss your wife and show her how much you love her." you giggled as his long hair tickled your cheeks as he dutifully caught your lips in another sweet kiss.

"Was he really worth it?" Baghra's question cut through your sobs. You wiped your tears, not wanting to cry in front of her, and turned to face her. "Wouldn't you rather curse him for creating a fold and for leaving you than mourn the bastard that was my son? Y/N, child, you have eternity ahead of you. An eternity where you can be happy. Is Aleksander worth wasting it?" you laughed bitterly, knowing the answer to her question all too well. Nothing has changed over the centuries. And you knew nothing would change your feelings.

"You know very well that I will never know happiness again. Not without him. I've never done that in all these years."

"There had to be a moment. Even the smallest." she tried desperately to convince you. You dropped your head, remembering those few moments between you and Kirigan in Little Palace.

"There was. Next to a man who looked like him. But after a while, it dawned on me that he would never be Aleksander. Call me and think about me however you want. Pathetic child, crazy woman… But the truth is, I loved your son, Baghra, and I will always love only him. Our hearts were created by the saints as one and divided in two, placing one in Aleksander and the other in me. There is no one in the world I could love like him, with whom I could be truly happy. This type of love never dies, Baghra. Even separated by a grave."

"What if you got him back? If he was with you, but he wasn't the same man you remember?"

"It wouldn't matter. We are all changing. I know I would love him as much as I did then."

"I just hope you know what you want, child. And that maybe he'll go back to who he used to be because of you." she sighed, leaving you alone with your grief. You frowned, analysing her vague words.

It wasn't until it started to get dark that you got up from your knees and brushed the dirt off your clothes. You were about to leave when the crunch of branches caught your attention. A foolish hope rose in you and you lifted your head, only to meet your eyes with the Kirgian.

"General. I was just returning to camp." he nodded his head without a word.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned to take one last look at what used to be your home. You sighed tremblingly as a lone tear rolled down your cheek.

And you whistled.

It was a fragment of an old Ravkan song about lovers returning home after a long journey to throw themselves into each other's arms, longing for separation. You and Aleksander adored it. And you decided that every time one of you left home, you would whistle that particular verse that stuck in your mind.

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

A cool breeze caressed your hot (from crying) skin. But the goosebumps that formed on your arms weren't from the cold at all.

"In the apple orchard stands the maiden fair and sings, When will you come home?"

You froze. Incapable of anything but breathing. You misheard. It's just one of your stupid fantasies, your mind playing tricks on you, or another cruel dream about how you got back the man you loved. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be real.

But the man holding your arm in a tight grip and turning you around to face him felt very real. AND ALIVE.

"Sasha?" you whispered tearfully, shaking all over, and if it wasn't for his strong grip on both of your arms, you probably would have fallen to your knees in front of him long ago, unable to do anything other than stare hopefully at the man in front of you.

Aleksander's heart shuddered and threatened to burst as the pet name, unused for hundreds of years, reached his ears. In an instant, you were on his chest as he hugged you with all his might. With your ear to his heart, you listened to his beating, and for the first time in hundreds of years, you cried WITH HAPPY.

"It's me, milaya. My sweet Y/N, my moon, my heart, my wife. It's me."

You heard him through a haze, too intent on his eyes to understand anything more from his speech. It was him. Your Aleksander. All this time. He was saying something to you, but you completely ignored him as something gold around his neck shimmered in the moonlight. You pulled the chain from under his jacket, sighing as you saw his wedding ring hanging securely on his necklace. A sob of disbelief escaped you. It was really him.

His hand cupping your cheek caused your watery gaze to shift back to those dark, beloved eyes.

"No more tears, milaya. You do not have to worry. From now on, I will never leave your side again. Not for a single bloody second."

And that was enough for you.

Grabbing his hair, you pulled him closer to you to feel his lips on yours as soon as possible. It wasn't one of those soft, gentle, unhurried kisses that lovers share after they meet after some separation.

It was intense, desperate, and needy, expressing your deadly longing for each other's lips through those painful years without each other. You didn't have the strength to hold back, to pretend you didn't miss that exact feeling all those lonely nights.

It didn't matter that your tears mixed and you could taste their salty taste on each other's lips. It didn't matter that your lungs were burning for air. It didn't matter that you had already fallen to your knees, too shaken by the feeling of the other's lips, but both of you longed too much for this closeness between you to deprive yourself of the warmth of the other's body even for a millisecond. It didn't matter if your lips were too swollen to decently go back to camp and pretend nothing had happened between you two.

You sincerely doubted that you would be able to take even a step towards the camp. Not after you trembled in Aleksander's lap as his hands caressed every inch of your skin.

But the moment came when you had to pull away from each other, cursing the need for air. You rested your forehead against his, inhaling his scent and clinging to his kefta to be as close to him as possible.

You both knew that there was no way you were going to be an arm's length away from each other. And you were seriously considering sticking with him permanently. His dark cloak looked big enough for you to hide under it too.

You couldn't believe your luck. He was here. With you. You had his arms around you again as you both clung desperately to each other.

Your Aleksander. Your husband. Your loved one. Your heart.

He had you again. His wife. His soulmate. His sanity. His equal. HIS EVERYTHING.

You wanted to pull away for a moment to look at his face again, but something tugged at your neck, bringing your head to Aleksander's shoulder. You looked down. Your necklaces are tangled.

"Seriously? It couldn't have happened a month ago?" you groaned as you tried to untangle your chains. You smiled, hearing how your husband laughed carelessly for the first time in centuries, since the day he lost you. "We'll never hear the end of it from Baghra, you know about it Sasha?" you asked, resting your forehead against his as you gave up on releasing the two of you. It didn't matter that everything was against you again. At least now you finally have Aleksander with you. YOUR real Aleksander.

"She had already called me a blind fool before she made me come here. I think we'll hear a lot from her about our stupidity." he murmured. You shivered as you felt his fingertips on your neck as he untied your intertwined necklaces effortlessly. He unclasped yours and, with great delicacy, placed the ring on your finger.

"Remind me to thank your mother for making you come here later." you replied, making sure his wedding ring was on his finger as well. Maybe you won't scare all the bitches away from him, but at least you'll make it clear that he belongs only to you. After hundreds of years without him, you have the right to be territorial.

"Later?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't think I'm going anywhere other than your tent and your bed right now, do you?"

"Our bed." he murmured before grabbing you in bridal style and heading for your tent. "By the way, I must commend you for how bravely you resisted the charms of someone who wasn't me. I barely managed to kiss you properly before you pushed me away."

"I don't know what I should do to you. Slap you for groping someone who had my face, or kiss you for only being attracted to my beauty."

"You have to admit, you didn't resist me much back then, my little saint." he murmured, kissing you again. He ran his hand through your hair, pulling you all the way onto him so he could feel your weight on him. You were with him. Body and soul. And it wasn't a dream. "Let's go to that tent before I have my way with you here and now." he muttered, getting up.

"Wait." you grabbed his hand. He turned to you, giving you a questioning look as he found you still kneeling on the grass. "Before we do anything. We both agree that we are not going to destroy the fold, right?"

Aleksander held his breath. He forgot how damn perfect you were. How you fit in and understood him in every way. And only the slight ounce of control he had left was keeping him from lunging at you right now as you kneeled in front of him with those beautiful, mesmerising eyes staring at him.

But after all, Aleksander was only human. A man whose cruel fate separated him from his beloved wife for many centuries…

He pulled you close to him in one swift motion. You crashed into his chest, completely unprepared for the sudden movement, but his intoxicating lips on yours compensated for your shock.

You moaned into his mouth as he pulled away from you so as not to lose his control completely.

"Saints, you have no idea how much I've missed you, my little moon."

"I'll take it as a yes." you replied, giggling as he put his arm around you. As you'd guessed, you fit perfectly with him under his cloak. You sighed, intoxicated by his scent.

"You know so well that I'll do anything for you. The fact that our plans coincide only proves that we belong to each other. And only to each other."

"Always, Sasha. I'm yours for eternity." you replied, smiling slightly as you turned to steal a glance at him.

"And I'm yours for the rest of our lives and beyond." he murmured, kissing your forehead.

You practically ran through the camp, ignoring Baghra's knowing, malicious look and the shocked expressions of Alina, Zoya, and Ivan (at which you giggled, causing Aleksander a small, tender smile) and Fedyor's smirk. You entered his tent, laughing as you started kissing while taking off each other's clothes.

"I hope you realize we don't leave this tent for at least a week?" he asked as he laid you down on the bed. However, the bastard didn't wait for your response, stealing a kiss from you.

"They'll be looking for you, Sasha." you mumbled between your kisses and grabbed his cheeks to make him focus on something other than your lips.

"What a pity I'll be too busy with my wife to notice anyone else but her." he lowered his head to your neck, making your hands tangle in his hair. You sighed, feeling his tongue on your skin just before he gently bit you.

"I thought we had a battle to win." he suddenly stopped all his movements. He intertwined your ringed hands and cupped your cheek with the other, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"My little moon, I'll postpone any goddamn war for you. There is nothing in this world more important to me than you and never will be." he promised, pressing his lips to yours.

You moaned, enjoying the long-forgotten feeling of his skin against yours as well as knowing that your love would never die.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Sweeter Than Candy - Bob Floyd x Reader

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings/content: hotel room sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), cursing

word count: 2.2k

You pressed your back against the stone exterior of the hotel, the cool breeze hitting your face as you turned to look up the street. You pulled out a compact mirror from your purse - waiting always made you nervous, and you knew you’d have to touch up your lipstick from biting your lip so often as you watched for him. Your blonde curls framed your face perfectly, the sexy, tousled look suiting you for this occasion. Your ruby coloured lips pursed as you tossed the compact back into your bag before turning to face the glass window to your left. You used the reflection to adjust your outfit - your tight black jeggings hugging your waistline, the low neckline of your lace bodysuit teasing just a little peek of your bra, while your dark blue denim jacket left the rest to the imagination. Your red-bottomed heels completed the look, giving you that sexy-in-charge kind of feel that drove Bob completely wild.

He wasn’t outspokenly sexual, on the outside he was sugary sweet, his always sunny disposition was what he was known for, but he reminded you of one of those candies that were sweet to start, until you managed to suck the sugary coating off and reveal a sour centre. It took time, but normally whenever the two of you met now, just the sight of you was enough to get him going.

He’d been wanting to keep your meetings secret - a way of keeping you entirely to himself. He lived life under a magnifying glass for the most part, but his love life was something he preferred to keep under wraps this time around. For all intents and purposes, you were entangled in a romantic relationship with one another - he’d send you flowers, take you out, but everything was done so quietly that really, sometimes you wondered yourself if you were really dating.

Finally, you got the signal, a text message disclosing his room number and where to meet him. You quickly slipped inside, heading straight for the elevator like you’d done this a thousand times before. You extended a manicured finger to press the button, gently chewing the inside of your mouth as it turned a bright white colour. The few seconds you had to wait for it to reach the lobby felt agonizing as you thought about Bob - his touch on your skin, his blue eyes staring hungrily at you as he kissed your lips, his voice soft and low as he told you how badly he wanted you right then and there.

The elevator was empty when it arrived, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped on, pressing the button for his floor. Just as the doors were closing, a hand reached between them, prompting them to open once again. Bob grinned slightly at you as he walked on between the doors. His navy blue suit was perfectly tailored to his frame, the open jacket showing his tight, white dress shirt that hugged his body. His navy blue tie was loose as it hung around his neck, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to tug on it and pull him in towards you.

“Mind if I come along?” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Of course not,” you smirked, biting your lip as the doors shut behind him.

“You didn’t think I’d let you get all the way up there by yourself, did you?” he whispered as he stood beside you.

The smell of his cologne encircled you as he rested a hand on the wall beside your head. He turned your face towards his, his lips pressing to yours with a sense of urgency, like he needed your kiss in the way he needed oxygen. You slid your tongue over his lower lip tauntingly, and Bob let out a groan.

“Darlin’, don’t tease me,” he growled.

You whined as his hands began wandering over your body, grasping for your breast as he slipped beneath the thin layer of lace that rested on your skin. He mumbled something into your sensitive skin, his lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses along your neck. He squeezed your breast in his hand as he groaned, trailing his mouth to the sweet spot of skin just above your collarbone. He knew that kissing you there drove you wild, and he loved how you reacted when he did it - your toes curled in your pumps, your head tilted to the side as your hair flowed down the left side of your neck. You felt his fingers pinching at your nipple as his lips worked at your collarbone, a soft groan escaping your lips as you heard the bell inside the elevator, signaling that you’d arrived at your floor.

Bob took your hand, leading you down the corridor quickly. You felt like it was partly because of the secrecy surrounding you relationship - the need for him to have something, anything that felt normal in his life, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that there was more to it than that. He hurriedly shoved his keycard into the slot, the door opening as a row of green light flashed above the handle, an automated beeping notifying the two of you that the door had unlocked.

Bob practically dragged you inside, shutting the door quickly behind him. He slid the deadbolt into place quickly so that no one could disturb you, before turning back to face you. His blue eyes were dark, filled with lust as he shoved your body down on to the bed. You giggled as he did, taken aback by how he was taking control. Normally he was pretty laid-back about sex - he always enjoyed it, but usually it resulted in a mild mishap or two that would interrupt your actions with a small outburst of laughter. Tonight however, was totally different.

He leaned over your body, resting two hands either side of your head to hold himself up above you. His signature grin formed on his lips as he ducked his head down to kiss you. He sat up, his legs either side of your waist as he worked at removing your jacket. He threw it into the dark void of the hotel room, God knows where.

“Fuck,” he groaned, taking in the sight of your lace covered torso.

“You like it?” you teased, running your hand up his thigh.

“Like it would be an understatement, darlin’,” he grinned as he slid his slender fingertips along your the delicate fabric covering you.

Bob rested his hands on the waistband of your jeggings, fiddling with the button that currently kept him from having you right then and there. He bit down on his lip as it popped open before tugging them down off your legs. You could hear his breath catch in his throat as his eyes ran over you.

“Jesus.”

He shook his head quickly before pushing the fabric that covered your slit off to the side, gently running his fingertip in circles over your sensitive nub. He grinned as you squirmed in pleasure, your toes curling as he traced shapes over your skin. His eyes watched your face intently, looking for the reaction he was hoping to get from you. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you moaned his name, your hands gripping fistfuls of the bed linens beneath you.

He ducked his head down between your legs, going to work at your clit with his tongue. Fuck, he was good at that.

He knew exactly how to make you scream, but you could tell that tonight he wanted to tease you more than anything else, and after a few open mouthed kisses and a couple of flicks of his tongue, he pulled his mouth away, giving your clit a soft, passionate kiss as he did, making you moan out his name as he pulled off of you.

Bob quickly unbelted his dress pants, dropping them to the floor as he stood up at the foot of the bed. Unbuttoning his shirt, he grinned at you as you lay there, waiting for him. Your teeth sunk into your scarlet coloured lips, your eyes trailing down his body, resting on the now tight, elastic fabric of his boxers, appearing as though it were about to burst if he didn’t get them off soon.

He shoved his boxers down off his waist, his hardened member springing forward as it came free from the restricting fabric. He tugged his hand along himself a couple of times, enjoying the view he was currently getting. He knelt back down on the bed, his fingers working at unclipping the bodysuit from where it fastened at your centre. He grunted as he tried, unable at first to get them undone.

“How the fuck do I get this off?” he laughed, “I can undo a bra in under three seconds, why can’t I figure this shit out?”

“Five, maybe,” you teased before erupting into a fit of giggles at his failed attempts to remove your bodysuit, “here,” you nodded your head once before reaching your hand down to the row of fasteners. You carefully popped them open, smirking at Bob as you did so.

“See, Lieutenant?” you teased, “it’s easy.”

You didn’t know why, but calling him by his full rank seemed to turn him on more than any amount of dirty talk you could use. It was like he craved being in control, and calling him Lieutenant gave him that authoritative feeling he so badly desired.

He signalled for you to get on all fours, and you did so obediently, your centre absolutely aching for him by this point. His hand rested on your back as he stood up at the foot of the bed once again, giving himself the perfect angle. He gave your ass a playful tap before giving it a tight squeeze.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he said, his voice in a low growl, “I love seeing you like this.”

“I bet you do,” you quipped back, your voice soft and seductive as you spoke.

You felt a shiver down your spine as he gently ran his hand along your slit, your wetness soaking his fingers. You could practically hear him smirking, you knew exactly by the soft, grunting sounds coming from behind you what he was doing.

“Fuck, I love how you taste” he said softly as you felt him lining his cock up with your slit.

He guided his tip along your wetness, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he pushed himself into you, just barely allowing his tip in. You whined in pleasure as you felt him, but you wanted more.

“Bobby,” you whined, “I need you.”

“Mhmm, is that so?” he grinned as he gently thrust himself further in, taking his sweet time as he entered you, making it more agonizing than anything else.

“Please, Bobby,” you whined at him as he pulled himself out.

He grinned as he straightened himself up, wasting no time as he pushed himself into you at full force. You let out a soft yelp as your body tightened around him, tilting your head back. You felt him grab a handful of your perfectly tousled curls, gripping them with a gentle tug as he began to thrust into you, his movements sharp and quick as he built up a rhythm.

You braced yourself by grabbing onto the sheets, gripping them tightly, your knuckles turning pale as he thrusted hard into your centre. You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure brewing in your stomach as Bob shoved himself sharply into your body. A scream escaped your lips, and you knew at that point you wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer.

“Gonna cum for me, darlin’?” he teased as a sound escaped his lips, some kind of mix between a moan and a laugh, before reaching a hand down to play with your clit.

“Fuck,” you screamed out as you hit the breaking point.

Bob grunted, each thrust becoming sloppier and less calculated as he began to reach his own high, a loud groan coming from behind you. You could feel him fill you as he climaxed, breathing a loud sigh of ecstasy as he pulled out of you, before collapsing down on the bed, completely breathless.

You rolled onto your side as Bob cleaned himself up before laying down beside you on the covers. His arm draped over your naked curves as he buried his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“So how did you get that thing undone?” he asked.

“The bodysuit?” you laughed, before realizing he was serious, “there’s little plastic snaps, you just grab each side of the snap and pull it apart.”

“Seriously?! That’s it?!”

Bob burst out laughing before shaking his head as he snuggled in close to you.

“Those things look hot and all, but next time I’ll let you undo it, because I can’t figure it out.”

[leavingsunsets]

Heyy!! I hope you're doing good 😎

Could I request a Ryusui x reader where the reader is his complete opposite ? She is more on the introverted side, prefers to be alone, socially awkard,not really confident and pretty insecure...

But yeah, she could not accept Ryusui's advances bc of how insecure she is, thinking he is just flirting with everyone as always haha and that they are opposite so its not gonna work lol

sorry if that's extra specific lol I hope it was understandable as english is not my first language !

Thank you and have a great day !! 😍

Again, thank you for requesting !! No need to be sorry, as being specific helps me actually have a guide on what to write abt !! Anyways, here u go... u have a great day or night too pokie !

"𝔏𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫."

[𝖱𝗒𝗎𝗌𝗎𝗂 𝖭𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋]

The distant sound of waves, and bubbling foam with every splash that lapped against the shore. It flowed against your ankles, dragging the sand with it. Warm.

You tilt your gaze up, and catch sight of the white clouds, only floating lazily above. It felt like a summer trance, where the sun was too bright, and skin too sweaty. Maybe for a moment, you could pretend you were somewhere else.

But before you could even close your eyes, the voice of a familiar captain slips through your sweet daydream.

"[name]!" Ryusui calls out, trudging through the border that fades from grass to sand. Surprised, you snap out of it, acknowledging him back politely.

"Ryu. Hi," you mutter, staring back at the sea. "I thought you were busy with the ship."

The blond hums, slowing his pace. "I was, but I also came to check on you," he places a hand over his peaked cap. "I was wondering where our favorite singer went."

You shoot him a weak smile. "Just taking a break from the others. You know how I am."

He huffs, amused as he stops by your side, enjoying the view. "Some of them are quite the character, aren't they? I think I can still hear Taiju's battle cry from here."

"Like," you snort, "like you aren't as loud."

"True. I am. Does it bother you?" He grins.

"No, no. Of course not," you shake your head, smile turning shy. "I don't really mind if it's you."

"Ooh, very biased, aren't you?" his tone lilts teasingly, "I must be special."

Flushing, you brush it off, hand coming up to rub at your neck. "When are you not, really," you mumble.

"Is this a confession?" Brown eyes gleam, gaze lain on you.

"Wha-" your face erupts in an embarrassed red. "Now that's just too direct!" you sputter out. Goodness. You've always loved his honesty, but it's the bane of you sometimes.

"You're very special to me too, [name]." The corner of his lips quirk, as his expression grows cheeky. "Very much so."

Blush dying down, you shake your head, "No. No, I meant it in a different way." Feeling a little ashamed, you look elsewhere from him, turning your sight back to the sea. You focus on something else, like how the warm water envelops the shore in frothy patterns.

Sand crunches as he shifts. Maybe you should've redirected the conversation to something else. The momentary silence prods at your nerves. Was he basking in the sun?

"You know I like you, right, [name]?" His voice is oddly placid, taking you by surprise. However, the compliment is quick to slide off you.

"I know, I know. The whole 'beautiful creatures' thing." Memories of his little speech come to mind, and you chuckle in humor. Eyes follow the distant sight of seagulls far into the sky.

"That's true, and I don't take back what I said," he replies, and takes a step forward. "But I desire you."

A skip of a beat. Yet, it's so easy to brush off, as you've always done. An awkward laugh bubbles out. "Ryu, I-"

"Je t'aime. Jeg elsker dig. Te amo," he steps close, taking your attention in a bold move. Grabbing your chin, he turns your face towards him. "Ik houd van je, I love you."

Finally, you get to see him in all the sun's glory. A determined gleam in his eyes, honed in on you. Any words you planned, dried out out on your tongue.

"I believe I've made myself clear," he says, oh so casually. For a moment, you stare, shocked, and speechless. Reply, reply, you need to reply, or anything- answer him!

"...I didn't know you could speak Swedish."

...Damn it.

Ryusui chuckles, letting go of your chin. "It's hot out here! How long have you been standing?" Brushing off his sleeve, he adjusts his cap.

In your mind, you're internally screaming.

Ryusui? Ryusui Nanami just professed to you. Something you hadn't even imagined in 10 years or so, if you haven't decided to actively pursue him. RYU. What did he even see in you? What pushed him to confess, TODAY?

"Come on, let's go back." he holds out his hand, so lightheartedly. The blond is so casual about this, so, so casual. How could he be after admitting his feelings?

But then again, Ryu was always this affectionate you, wasn't he? Memories flood into your mind, of every gesture, every glance. Did everything lead up to here, or was this another misunderstanding?

Looking at him, so brightly shining, you can't help but decide to let your worries, the thoughts that cling you down, let go for a minute.

"Yeah. Let's go," you mutter, taking his hand.

The sounds of the crashing waves grow distant with every step. Your chest hums, heart buzzing with a newfound warmth.

[lexithwrites]

this is quite a basic hc about jeg but I really don't think it can get better than regulus going from hating james to them meeting every night and forming this friendship that they don't understand.

neither of them really understand what they're feeling, and they're so confused but then one night they end up kissing. The boy that they hated is now one they understand better than anyone else. They end up finding out that they're is so much more to the other person than they ever thought there would be.

from then on they're so careful and gentle with each other. They don't want anything to happen to the other and they're so protective. They want to preserve what they have because they're scared it's not a forever sort of thing.

idk if you like taylor swift but I do think that the lyrics of treacherous really represent they're relationship really well.

anyway those are my favourite type of jegulus fics, simple but effective. don't let the hate anons get to u <33

i love this too! regulus being closed off at first because he's not sure if james is a dick like his brother or not but eventually looking past the confidence and the 'better than everyone' attitude and james is underneath and he's just a guy dealing with life like regulus is, and them growing that protectiveness for each other is always beautiful to read — also yes the song is v jegulus!

thank you <3

[fics-n-stuff]

Steve walked into the Munson trailer one day to find Eddie in the kitchen singing, lightly headbanging along to the accompanying instrumental that was playing in his head while he washed the dishes. This was not unusual. What was unusual was that Eddie was not singing in English.

Steve shut the trailer door slowly and quietly so as not to catch Eddie's attention, and slowly moved forward while listening to Eddie sing. He didn't want to interrupt yet.

A couple of minutes passed before Eddie turned and noticed Steve. He jumped, letting out a small yelp, which made Steve chuckle.

"Jesus, Harrington! How long have you been there?"

"A couple minutes."

"And you didn't think of saying anything?"

"I was trying to figure out what language you were singing in."

"Oh." Eddie grabbed a tea towel to wipe his hands on. "It was Danish."

"You speak Danish?" Steve asked in disbelief. Eddie nodded casually.

"Yeah, my mom was Danish." He shrugged. He dropped the towel and sauntered over to Steve, draping his arms over his shoulders before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Did I never tell you that?"

"No, you never told me that. You're Danish?"

"Yeah." Eddie laughed. "I know I don't really look it. You know, dark hair and dark eyes aren't really the expected viking features. Unfortunately I look more like my dad. But my hair was lighter when I was a kid."

"You speak Danish?" Steve's brain was still catching up with all this new information.

"En lille smule." Eddie grinned. "Min mor talte dansk tilt mig."¹

"I don't know what you said but that was really hot." Steve muttered. Eddie laughed. "So what was that song you were singing?"

"Me and my cousin in Denmark write letters to each other. He sent me a tape with some music he thought I'd like and one of the songs got stuck in my head."

"Will you teach me some Danish?"

"Selvfølgelig!"² Eddie's face lit up. "Nobody's ever cared that I was Danish before. A lot of people literally didn't even know that Denmark is a country."

"I think it's really cool. I wish my mom had taught me Italian, I only know the things my nonna always said, which is mostly swears and insults."

"Hey, that's useful stuff. That means you can shit talk people without them knowing what you said."

"Yeah but it would be nice to have a functioning knowledge of the language too." Steve shrugged.

"Det er ikke så fantastisk."³ Eddie said with a shake of his head, though his lips were quirked up in a smile. "There isn't really much point when nobody else understands."

"Except that being bilingual is hot." Steve smiled.

"Er det rigtigt?"⁴ Eddie exclaimed amusedly, grinning again. He leaned in to press another kiss to Steve's lips, longer and more tender. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Steve's, letting out a tiny contented sigh. "Jeg elsker dig."⁵

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

I just came back from visiting family in Denmark and I had the idea of Scandinavian Eddie so here's a teensy tiny ficlet. I was gonna make him Norwegian because Norway is more known for their metal music than Denmark, but I don't speak Norwegian so I felt uncomfortable writing any Nowegian sentences. I don't really speak Danish either but I could at least kinda know what I was writing, and I kept it pretty simple so almost all of it is stuff I know anyway. 💕

Translations:

¹"A little bit." "My mum spoke Danish to me."

²"Of course!"

³"It's not that great."

⁴"Is that right?"

⁵"I love you."

[jegbigbang]

One Month to go, baby!

Hello everyone!

Sign-ups for the Jegulus Big Bang have been open for a bit now and we are so thrilled by how many of you have shown interest and joined, both as writers, artists and beta readers! Today marks one month until the sign-ups for writers close so we thought we'd give you a little reminder if you're still contemplating joining or not! So if you’re still thinking about joining us, make sure to get in before they close! Below you will find the links to the sign-ups for each category. 

AUTHOR | BETA | ARTIST

Everyone who signs up will receive a welcome email 24-48 hours after they’ve signed up, which will have a link to our discord server (mandatory to join, but participation not expected). This is a great place to get motivation through writing/artist sprints, or for fellow participants to hype you up for your fic!

As always, if you have any questions please reach out. We are always here to help any way we can. 

RULES | FAQ | SCHEDULE | CONTACT 

— the jeg big bang mods

[calamitoustide]

getting myself excited over an idea only to talk myself out of it and decide it's horrible is actually awful i need a gun

[captainwans]

★ . . . ❛ ━━ BEN CHILWELL x FEM!READER.

( MASTERLIST! )

Liked by macerlyofficial, amandampn and others

yourinstagram name another plant enthusiast, i’ll wait. 🙋🏽‍♀️🪴

view all the comments

katrinefogtfriis plantemor! 🌾🩶 ( plant mother )

yourinstagram min smuk! 🌸 ( my prettiest )

user if she doesn’t get any cuter

user thats so cute 🥹

sophiaamelia i love this! 😍

yourinstagram and i love you 😙

joaofelix79 i like plants too just saying…

yourbestfriend and your flirting attempts needs an update just saying…

cmpulisic i knew you would say smth like that 😭😭

user CACKLING

user lmao she’s back

user smh he can never get a break

user this is so funny

masonmount benchilwell mate your house is a freaking jungle those leaves slapped my face so hard i’m not even kidding 😭

kaihavertz29 now i’m picturing you getting slapped and i can’t stop laughing

user no bc same i’m literally shaking

benchilwell bro i face planted into a 3 feet tall plant don’t complain 😒

user poor things 😭😂

yourbestfriend benchilwell you deserved it

benchilwell yourbestfriend 😐

Liked by benchilwell, yourfriend and others

yourinstagram 　

view all the comments

benchilwell 😍🥵🔥

yourinstagram liked this comment!

user holy mama im gay

user SLAYY QUEEN

sasha__rebecca gorgeous!! 🤩🤍

yourinstagram love u sash! 💞

user 😍😍

helenespilling fineste dama jeg vet om! 🔥😩 ( prettiest woman i know )

yourinstagram fineste danseren jeg vet om 😉 ( prettiest dancer i know )

odegaard.98 yourinstagram enig! 🤩 ( agreed )

vegardharm nei nå må du slutte 🔥😍 ( now you have to stop )

yourinstagram slutt jeg rødmer 🫣💞 ( stop i’m blushing )

laurennjjames beautiful as always! 🩷

yourinstagram got it from you 🫶🏼

user lauren is so smol i love their friendship!!

user y/n is collecting celebs like infinity stones

yourinstagram i’m gonna pin this comment 🤭

Liked by alexchilwell, sophiaamelia and others

yourinstagram some unhinged moments

view all the comments

user NOT THE WINE

user christian has me dying

user they’re all so unserious i love them

masonmount without me 🥺

yourinstagram if you didn’t leave chelsea then maybe you could’ve gotten the invite 😊

masonmount ouch 😣

chelseafc 🫣

manchesterunited pls don’t get us involved

3,173 liked this comment!

user SHE DID NOT

user YN APOLOGIZE NOW

user how did you managed to get chelseafc manchesterunited to get here pls-

yourinstagram user i have no idea 😭 now i’m gonna have 12 year old football fans coming at me

user a punch in the throat— same

user poor mase shshs

yourbestfriend ok but why does the smashed wine bottle look so aesthetic? 🫢😩

marcusrashford and what’s wrong with man utd

yourinstagram i just don’t like your team don’t take it personally

yoursister what did that wine do to you?

yourfriend a lot… 🫣

benchilwell she was so drunk that she thought that the wine bottle was thor’s hammer and smashed it on the floor 💀

sophiaamelia she cried so much after that thinking that she “destroyed” thor’s hammer 😭

reecejames poor wine 😞

yourinstagram *poor me 🖕🏻 reecejames

kaihavertz29 so much happened last night i don’t even remember half of it rip

cmpulisic it went so far that we all crashed at a fancy party and bought 16 bottles of wine

rlc lmaoo now i remember 😭 memorable

user what is going on with this comment section

user i’m so confused

user pls how did we get from man utd to thor’s hammer?

user idk but i’m cackling my ass off this is so funny

user don’t act surprised y/n’s comment section is always a mess and we’re here for it

user it’s like watching a comedy show fr

user can someone get me updated of y/n and mason’s friendship my heart aches just thinking about it pls why am i so invested

user pls- me too the comment was too far

user right? like why would she say that

user he already got too much on his plate rn

user she’s so annoying

yourbestfriend you guys are taking this too far pls it’s not even that serious 😭

yourinstagram user mase is doing just fine he’s sitting behind me giggling at the comments

masonmount no bad blood guys! ❤️

[ouiouibaguettt]

Not so secret now?

Ingrid engen x Vera Nilsson (oc!)

warning: none i think / just slight kiss 

not so sure about this one

Masterlist

─ ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ── ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ─

Narrator’s POV:

Vera Nilsson, our 22 year old Swedish prodigy, arrived at FC Barcelona in the 2020/2021 season and played her magic and won the hearts of the fans and the team.  She was a great help for the victory in the Champions League having made 2 assists and a goal but this one was offside.

//

The 18th of October 2021, is a very important date for Vera and Ingrid. The Swedish and Norwegian youngsters have become very close since Ingrid joined the team this summer. After two months of flirting they talked and got together on this date.

They were like a couple of teenagers. Soft kisses, shy caresses, they showed their love in private but when they went out with the team they were just best friends in the eyes of everyone. But looks don't deceive, they weren't as discreet as they seemed. For example, when a guy or girl comes up to Ingrid and flirts with her, Vera will stare at the person and automatically force a smile and say that everything is fine when Mapi and Leila decide to question her about the looks.

//

On 21st May 2021, it is the Champions League final in Turin. Vera was really nervous, as tonight's match was against Olympique Lyonnais. This team has already won the competition 7 times. As she and Ingrid do their a pre-match ritual, Vera sat in front of the Norwegian who was sitting in her seat, Ingrid did the young Swedish girl's hair. It was a way of expressing their sweet words like "I love you, and you're going to be amazing on the field" or "no matter what you do, I'll always be proud of you".

//

Vera couldn't believe it, the team had lost. She was frozen, that's what the rest of the team thought when they saw Vera sitting on the floor with her eyes fixed on the goal where she missed her shots that were so precious. According to her, it's all her fault if she had managed to put them in tonight would have been different. Still staring at the goals, she paid no attention to Ingrid, who came to land in front of her.

//

Vera's POV:

"It's all my fault, I let the team down, I didn't do the club and the shirt justice, I'm a disgrace" I said through my shirt while holding back the tears.

"No, you're not, Min kärlek, you did the best you could, okay? I’m really proud of you. You don’t have to carry the whole weight of the team all by yourself you know. And we're a team, as we often say, we win together and we lose together so don't worry, we'll get the trophy back next season. " Ingrid said, putting her hands on my cheek so that I could finally meet her gaze, a gaze filled with love.

"Stop looking at me like that" I say, turning red. "Like what?" she said. "Like you want to kiss me in front of all these people, and you know very well that I won't reject you” I say. “Vera?” she says. “Yeah?” I say. She look at me before she leans in and her lips met mines. After what seemed like an eternity, we pulled away to put our foreheads together.

“Not so secret now are you?” we heard Mapi and Leila ask.

“I guess not” I say locking eyes with Ingrid. “jeg liker deg” says the norwegian. “jeg elsker deg også“ I say with a little smile who had appeared taking the place of the frowns on my face.

We did loose tonight, but I ended up winning the love of my girl. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Lyon we'll see each other again don't worry.

─ ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ── ⋅◈⋅ ━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━ ⋅◈⋅ ─

Min kärlek (swd) = my love (eng)

jeg liker deg (nwg) = i love you (eng)

jeg elsker deg også (nwg) = i love you too (eng)

[novemb-r]

Gunvor Hofmo (b. 30 June 1921 Oslo/Kristiania - d. 14 October 1995, Oslo) was a Norwegian writer considered among the country's most significant modernist poets. She eventually was named "Mørkets sangerske / songstress of darkness", being one of the leading poets of the post-war period, the horrors of the war and the loss of her Jewish lover Ruth Maier left a deep mark on the majority of her writing.

P.1: Gunvor Hofmo P.2: Gunvor Hofmo & Ruth Maier

Hofmo was only 19 when the war broke out, and several of her relatives were imprisoned or killed by the Germans. But perhaps the biggest loss was her lover, Ruth Maier, an Austrian Jewish woman born in 1920, who came to Norway as a refugee in 1939. A year later Hofmo met Maier at a voluntary work service at Biristrand, both being fond of writing, they quickly became friends. Eventually the two women became lovers and they traveled around Norway together, working from place to place, until they returned to Oslo sometime in 1942.

Ruth was arrested and sent to the Auschwitz extermination camp together with 532 other Norwegian Jews on the transport ship Danube on 26 November 1942. Gunvor followed her girlfriend to the dock and never heard from her again. Maier died 1. December 1942 in Auschwitz.

P. 1&2: Ruth Maier

Ruth wrote several diaries that Hofmo kept after her death. She made attempts to publish them in the post war period, but it was only after her passing in 1995 that Ruth Maier's diaries were discovered and later published in 2007.

The topic of homosexuality plays a role several times in her diaries, already at the age of thirteen, Ruth discussed same-sex love and desire with a friend in Vienna but was happy when she could push the subject away: "I think about how horrible it was when I went and thought about it. I looked it up in the encyclopedia. I asked Mutz [Ruth Maier's mother] too, but she said it's the kind of thing I don't understand. Thank God it's over now. Yes , if you don't have problems, you get them!" Later, after she had gotten to know Gunvor Hofmo in Norway, she would return to the topic.

Unlike Gunvor Hofmo, it is not easy to decide whether Ruth Maier was a lesbian or not, but her love for her was clear, she wrote of Hofmo in her diary several times:

In January 1941, she wrote: "Gunvor's eyes are dark blue. They are bottomless. […] The days are brighter when you love someone." In the autumn of the same year, she admitted that she could not imagine life without Gunvor.

Again in 1941, "I can't say how warm I feel with Gunvor. I love her deep eyes. I love her reserved way of talking about things. Gunvor is a valuable human being. I would sacrifice a lot to make her happy."

In her diary after Maier was admitted to Ullevål Hospital in Oslo after a nervous breakdown, the doctors asked her about her feelings for Gunvor Hofmo as well. In her diary, she noted: "I can't do anything for that I feel so deeply for her. The doctors must have thought that I in this regard have an unnatural inclination. That is not the case. What I feel for her is completely natural. I feel spiritually connected to her. There is not the slightest hint of physical lust in me. But it may be that I have a need for love that requires its expression, where Gunvor is a (dear)welcome object."

Gunvor Hofmo and her girlfriend Ruth Maier

After the war, in 1946, Gunvor Hofmo published her first collection of poems: Jeg vil hjem til menneskene / I want to go home to the humans.

It is here that we find the iconic post-war poem "Det er ingen hverdag mer / There is no everyday anymore":

God, if you still see: There is no everyday anymore. There is just silent screams, there is just black corpses that hang in red trees! Hear how quiet it is. We turn to go home but we always meet them. Everything we sense one day is the breath of the killed! If we in hiding go: it is their ashes that we tread. God, if you still see: There is no everyday anymore.

In the debut collection, as in all of Hofmo's later releases, it was grief and suffering that stood at the center.

In the post-war period, she was to become a long-term patient at Gaustad Hospital in Oslo. Doctors diagnosed her with "schizophrenia, paranoid form" in 1954. She was there for shorter and longer periods for 22 years - until she was discharged in 1975. Before and after this period, she produced a large number of poetry collections.

Just before she was admitted to Gaustad, she wrote one of her most famous poems, Jeg har våket / I have awakened. The last part of the poem, about Maier:

... I saw my friend, the only one, I saw her go to die. And since the trees have mourned, and since then Death has drawn my body and soul and voice into the sea of ​​despair!

In 1947, Hofmo began a long term relationship with Astrid Tollefsen (1897-1973) and became one of the first Norwegians living in an openly lesbian relationship. They continued to live and travel together until Hofmo was incapacitated and committed to Gaustad for her illness.

Afterwards there was a period of 16 years silence where she published no new work until she broke her silence with the collection 'Gjest på jorden / Guest on earth' in 1971.

She lived an anonymous life in the capital city, refusing to be interviewed nor did she read her work aloud. Her last years spent mostly in solitude and isolation apart from a few friends who were allowed in. She died suddenly in October 1995, debilitated by diabetes with which she had been struggling for a couple of years.

Hofmos work was little translated during her lifetime. And there seems to be no official translated works in English. (The poems you see on this post have been translated by me.)

Sources: x x x x

[ask-commander-arild]

what was it like for you when you were first taken from your home and forced to work for the pigmasks? did they threaten you to join? im sorry, either way it must have been a hard time for you.

It... was very hard. It still is. I don't like to talk about it very much, but... I feel like if I don't get it out at some point, I might just explode. So, well... where do I even start..?

When I was 11 years old, just weeks before my 12th birthday, I... hmmm... I got up one morning, got dressed, got my backpack, got breakfast, and watched some tv. It was the same as every morning. The only difference... before I left, I... got into an argument, with my mamma. It's been so long now, I don't even remember why, but I can imagine I probably did something stupid. We both said some pretty... not great things to each other, and then I slammed the door and left in a huff. I didn't care what the consequences would be once I got home, that was a problem for future me, I was just going to go to school and worry about it later. But, then...

I was on my way to the bus stop... and I... it happened so fast, I didn't even have any time to react. There were three of them, they grabbed me and... it was a blur after that. Next thing I remember, I was in a place surrounded by men in lab coats and strange uniforms, and they explained who they were (which, you already know, evidently), and I... may have punched a few people out of fear. Unfortunately, one boy vs a group of trained soldiers doesn't exactly end well... After that, I... don't know... I remember being approached by a caped soldier in a white uniform. He said something like "Y'know kid, we could really use someone with that kinda attitude. A little discipline and I think you'll make a fine addition around here." or.. something along those lines...

The thought of that terrified me. I didn't want to join them, I didn't even want to be there. I just wanted to go home to my family. I tried refusing, but... they gave me two choices. Either join their ranks and become a soldier, or be brainwashed and made to forget everything. I feel stupid for it now, but... well, obviously, you know what I chose. Thus, I've spent the past few years right here, in the army, and as much as I wish I could say I've hated it, I really don't know if I'd have it any other way. Overall, the army has done some terrible things, and I have always hated that, but on the other hand, getting to know my brothers in arms and making such a deep connection with them has been one of the best experiences in my life. Even still....

From the moment I was taken, I have missed my family desperately. Letting my lillesøster play with my toys, even if I found her annoying. Playing games with my storebror, even if he found me annoying. Going fishing and camping with my pappa, even if I was a little afraid of him, haha. And my mamma... jeg savner henne så mye... As much as I've enjoyed the past few years, there's nothing I want more than to be in her arms again. But, even if I can go back now, would she... even want to see me? After the things I said to her? Does she even care that I'm gone now? What if she's happier now that she never has to see me again? I don't think I could ever go back and face her again. Especially now, being a chimera. What would she say if she saw me? She'd probably see me as some kind of monster. I can't go back...

Thanks for the question, friend...

(ooc: Ooooo, boy, this one was tough to write, in more ways than one. I teared up more than a couple times writing, tbh. I did have a lot of fun writing it, though. Even still, I'm not the most proud of it. I def think I could do better, but oh well. Also, this post has a lot of Norwegian, and thus a lot of google translate. I have no idea if it's grammatically correct, but I just hope it gets the point across. If anyone who's Norwegian somehow finds this blog, HELPPPP. Anywho, sorry for the long read, y'all. Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for the ask, Hal Pinkalliums!!)

[demise-seems-dead]

lokius wedding bands

Hi guys, im deranged and spend a lot of time thinking about fictional characters having wedding rings, so, heres what i think lokius wedding rings would look like! i think, firstly, loki would propose. Hes a trickster! Hes good with surprises. Mobius is usually the more engaging one in showing his love with his words so i think lokis ultimate trick would be showing how much he cares about mobius very vocally. By, proposing! So, the actual ring ring would probably be like this. It would have a diamond, as thats traditional for midgardians to have. It would be secured by four prongs, two on each side to look like lokis horns. On either side of the diamond would be two green stones, three pronged, because lokis got to throw a bit of himself in there. And and and uhm, i think that the band part should be gold, and have infinity signs in it. Because like. Mobius strip. Shows the long lastingness of their love and has mobius's name in it so like. Grrr. Eek. Uh. As for the actual bands, they'd be silver and have very simple designs on the outsides. But but but, on the inside is whats special. on the inside of lokis would be "for all tid ,alltid" which is for all time, always." And in mobius's would be "jeg går ikke lenger alene" which is an alteration of the line "i walk alone" (jeg går alene) from "very full" (jeg saler min ganger) which is the song loki sings in the pub. and yeah thats just my special lil thought about lokius wedding stuff.