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inmyheaddd · 6 months

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grayson hawthorne childhood bsf to lovers head canons

a/n: my first posttt!! grayson hawthorne ily if u have any advice pls lmk!! also will be taking requests if you have any 🤍

wc: 1.9k masterlist

you both come from very prominent families in texas, so it’s no surprise that you spent countless events and parties within each others company.

you and grayson were in the same nursery

there are multitudes of pictures of you with the brothers as babies/ toddlers, some you forgot even existed

as you and the hawthorne brothers were all similar ages, you often found yourself ditching the adults and the formalities of the event and hanging out separately -usually in the treehouse.

you weren’t really chatty or outgoing per say, especially compared to xander and jameson. however, around them your shell would fade a little bit.

grayson was still quiet around you. one time when you were 12 and he was 14, you were climbing up the tree house with a broken arm, (you were too stubborn, and slightly embarrassed to ask for help) he himself was walking towards the tree house from a distance. he sees you struggle, and runs to help you without any hesitation.

you offer him a smile and small “thankyou” when you are both up.

he’s already halfway turned, nods without making eye contact, and then he walks away.

you and grayson didn’t hit the best friends level until around 14/15

you didn’t talk to him as much as you would with xander, which is what led to xander noticing how many things in common you and grayson had.

he would subtly (not subtle at all) tell grayson about recent things you were doing

“yeah, she’s into photography… just like you! isn’t that crazy?“

“did you know that she plays cello? just like you!”

“i don’t play cello, xander“

“violin, cello, same thing! you could take pictures of violins together! tell me how many other people on earth you could do that with… none! because she fascinatedly enjoys the same weird things that you do, except she does it better.” he paused, finally taking a breath. “you could learn some things!”

grayson slowly started talking to you more and more in group settings, and you both became more comfortable in each others presence

one time, you needed help with an art project. you had to design your own fictional apartment and create paintings, posters, photos, and furniture unique to you.

you were not the most creative person at 14, but heights country day had high expectations.

after 3 days of no progress, you called grayson explaining and asking for help.

to your surprise, he agreed to do it and over the next few weeks you both worked on it.

you started to involve snacks and watching movies (ends up being background chatter whilst you talk) or just talking in the times you worked together, to make it feel less like an appointment and more like friends talking and helping each other out.

one time you suggested you play music ask background noise, and to his surprise you two had extremely similar music tastes. another thing for you to talk about!

as one of the requirements for the project were your own photos, you and grayson would sneak pictures of each other without the other knowing, and one time went out together for the sole purpose of taking photos of surroundings.

jameson liked to call that “the ultimate first date for nerds”

you and grayson both repeatedly insisted it was not a date. (grayson would go all out and beyond if it was)

during these few weeks you became inseparably close, half the time you hung out to work on the project, it was long forgotten within the hour.

you soon realized you started to develop a small crush on him.

after you turned it in and got 100, you took a chance and asked him if you two could go out to celebrate. he was extremely happy for you and your mark, and agreed.

you decided on going to the park and have a celebratory picnic, not so subtly accompanied by xander and jameson about 500ft away who just so happened to be coincidentally walking by!

the awkwardness once present many years ago was long gone, and you two were laughing and talking like there was no tomorrow.

to anyone who didn’t know you two, they would’ve never even guessed you were as quiet as you were around other people.

around eachother, you felt like there was no pressure to perform, put on a fake face, and any over thinking.

xander and jameson were genuinely surprised, and thought you two were secretly together, and asked grayson about it a few days later

“so! me and xander were casually strolling through the park as one does, and we just so happened to see you and a certain someone!”

graysons infamous eyebrow arch appears with a monotone, “and?”

“you were more smiley than i’ve ever seen you in my whole entire life” xander deadpans.

“do you have something to tell us?”

“yeah, why would you not tell me and jameson you two were secretly dating!”

“we are not secretly dating, we were celebrating her 100 on the project we worked on.”

“oh yeah, the ‘project’” xander says in air quotes, dragging the oh with an inquisitive look on his face

graysons face is expressionless as he stays silent for a second. “i’m done with this conversation” grayson says as he walks away.

“you know gray, it wouldn’t be so wrong if you liked her. you deserve someone good for you.” jameson calls out. grayson pauses for a second, and continues to walk.

hes always liked you, he just didn’t want to ruin the one good thing he had going for him in his eyes. every time he lets someone in, which is rarely, they end up gone.

you were inseparable best friends, always getting mistaken as together by older adults, or getting told that you should be together.

you and grayson swap annotated books all the time.

youd make fun of him for his over analysis of the lines and characters, whilst your annotations would often be “no fucking way” “I KNEW IT” “this psycho bitch” “WHAT” “aww”

he’d make fun of yours as well, but secretly, it was his favorite part of reading the books you’d give him, never failing to make him smile.

he went with you to homecoming, his suit and tie matched your dress and he gave you a matching corsage; all a total surprise to you

literally everybody thought you were together

he held your shoes for you when your feet got tired

after the party, you went to an icecream place and talked for hours still in your outfits. people looked at you strangely but you didn’t care because you were both too infatuated with eachother to pay any mind.

on movie nights you two would have together, you two would always look at eachother at seperate times, turning your head when his eyes are about to catch yours.

when you’d fall asleep on the couch next to him, you’d somehow wake up in your bed

when you watched the notebook together you noticed him shed a single tear whilst you were crying your eyes out

your crying immediately stopped when you saw it and relentlessly teased him for it as he says “he’d never cry to a romance movie”

when nash would come home he’d always ask grayson if you two were together yet.

you had liked grayson for around 3 years now, and you thought that if he liked you he would’ve said something by now (doesn’t make sense when you’ve liked him for 3 years but said nothing, but it’s ok)

so when a cute guy in your math class asked you to prom, you agreed.

he ended up being 3 hours late, and when he did show up, he was dancing with another girl the whole time.

you didn’t even like the guy, so why were you so sad? you didn’t know.

you exited through the back door and sat in the parking lot. xander noticed your absence and called grayson right away

sitting in the parking lot with your knees to your chest, mascara threatening to run down your eyes, you notice a car pull up

upon further inspection you realise it’s grayson’s car.

you stand up and walk away and he jogs towards you, calling out your name.

you turn around “grayson? what are you doing here” you say with a light shake of your head

“what are you doing here.”

“it’s my prom night?”

“no, i mean out here. why aren’t you inside with everyone else?”

“i was just getting a breather, drunk teenagers am i right?” you said, followed by a slight chuckle. “well, im going back inside now, you can go.” you point back to the door with a slight quiver in your voice.

you start to walk away as he’s still standing there.

“you always look down when you lie, you know that?”

you stop dead in your tracks and turn around, “what?”

“whenever you lie, you look to the side, look back up, look down, and then look back up again.”

“what? you’re talking crazy grayson. just go home, i’m fine.”

“there you go again, side, back up, down, up again.”

“how’d you even notice that?” you say with a star struck, almost in awe expression on your face.

he walks closer to you “i notice everything about you.”

you’re at a loss for words, just silently staring at him while he keeps talking

“i notice that you always smile at people, even if you don’t talk, you smile. i notice that even when someone has wronged you numerous times, you’ll show them kindness. i notice that whenever you’re struggling, you keep it to yourself. i notice that you also insist on doing things yourself unless you absolutely need assistance, so you don’t feel like a burden, and it drives me crazy. you drive me crazy.”

you’re genuinely dumbfounded, not knowing what to say, too many thoughts jumping in of your mind you settle on “i… i don’t do that.” real smooth

“do you remember that day in the treehouse?” he pauses, “you broke your arm, yet you still tried to climb it.”

you lightly laugh “yeah i was like 12, i thought i could do anything.”

“you were still you.”

your face stills, and you notice something unfamiliar in the way grayson looking at you, something you’ve never noticed in his eyes before

“gray, what are you saying, what does all this mean?”

“i would spend my entire life noticing all the things you don’t know about yourself, and remembering all the moments you forget. because that’s what my life is. it’s you.“ he’s breathing heavier now, and pauses again. “and i’ll work every single day of it proving to you that you don’t have to be alone. you are the one that showed me that, and you’re the one who needs to hear that the most. i’ll work everyday so that one day so you can see yourself from a lens that isn’t tinted with doubt. i’ll work everyday proving to you that i love you.”

by the end of his confession/monologue, he’s standing right in front of you inches away from your face you’re in genuine shock for a few seconds

“say something. anything” after a beat of silence, you reply

“you know, i kept all the photos i took of you, of us, from that one art project years ago. it’s in my um, it’s in my special box.” you say with a light laugh

a smile starts to appear on his face “your what?”

“my box full of things that i love, and never want to lose.” you say in a quieter voice, looking at him straight in the eyes. “i love you, grayson, and i never want to lose you.”

he reaches for your face and kisses you like you were the air he breathed, kisses you like you were the only person in the whole world, and like his life depended on it. he kissed you, and suddenly your world felt a little bit lighter.

from that point on, you were together. you never explicitly told anyone you were together, not secret, just private.

a few weeks later, you two were walking around the hawthorne house, holding hands when xander and jameson pass by

“how do say they aren’t a couple when they do things like that!” xander exclaims pointing at your interlocked hands.

jameson rolls his eyes annoyedly with a smile on his face, “they’re practically married at this point.”

grayson turns around and looks back at xander with the faintest smile on his face “oh, we are a couple,” and continues walking.

“WHAT??!!”

“i so called it”

this is my first ever tumblr post i hope you enjoyedddd

if you have any advice/improvements give them!!

i have a part 2 started of what it’s like actually dating and it’s more head cannons than storytelling - this was def story/background heavy - lmk if anyone’s interested!!

#grayson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #the inheritance games #xander hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson x reader #nash hawthorne #the inheritance trilogy #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #avery kylie grambs #the grandest game #the brothers hawthorne #❦ jude writes

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bugrry · 2 years

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you're the thing that's crystal clear

hbo!joel miller x fem!reader

hello lovebugs!!

a/n: after thirteen months of no new writing, the inspiration bug finally bit me again! please please please let me know what you think! hopefully i'll have more works coming out in the next few months, fingers crossed! :EDIT: at first i'd had it written that it was a gn reader, forgetting that i'd used she/her pronouns for the reader. so sorry!

in this fic there are spoilers for episode six of the last of us AND i have not played the game, so if there are any inaccuracies, sorry!

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader and joel reuniting (let me know if i missed/forgot about anything!)

word count: 3,105

part two

Joel and Ellie had been at the commune for three whole hours before Joel can bring himself to ask about you.

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks as the four of them sit together and enjoy their meal. Tommy sighs, as though he’d been waiting for Joel to ask the question. He probably had been.

“I don’t know, Joel,” Tommy grunted, piercing the last morsel on his plate with his fork.

“You said she came here with you,” Joel grumbles, his voice just above a whisper.

“I also said she didn’t want to talk to you,” Tommy responds, swallowing and standing. He grabs his and Maria’s plate once she indicates that she’s done eating. Tommy moves to go to the kitchen, and Joel is following close behind him.

“So she’s here.” He tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but he doesn’t think he was all that convincing. He also doesn’t think he really cares.

Tommy turns to him, almost snatching Joel’s plate out of his hands. “I’ll tell her you’re here. Let her decide what to do about it. Don’t you dare go lookin’ for her.”

Joel sighs as he watches Tommy walk away from him, and he decides that he’s going to explore the rest of the commune. He eventually finds himself alone, sitting at a bar in an empty restaurant, thinking about the last time he saw you.

Three Years Ago

“Joel please!” You begged from where you stood with your half-packed backpack.

“No. I’m not joinin’ those Firefly fucks.” He stood tall and intimidating in front of you, almost like he was going to physically stop you from leaving.

“Even if I have to go?” You said sharply, turning to grab another essential from your small cabinet.

“You don’t have to go.” Joel almost scoffed.

“I’ll die if I stay here.”

“I’ll protect you!” Joel’s hands flew out from where they’d been at his sides. You flinched at the movement and the sudden change in his tone.

“You can’t. Not from this.” You mumbled, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“From what?!” He continued to speak harshly, and you had to push through the instinct to just shut down.

You dropped what you’d been holding, pressing the palms of your hands into the edge of the counter.

“From myself!” You took a deep breath and finally turned to face him. “I am rotting here, Joel. I need to get out. For good.”

You had tried so hard to find a purpose here, with him, but every passing day only convinced you further that staying in Boston would kill you. One way or another, you knew that staying here would lead to you being just another one of the bodies that Joel had to toss in the pit. You shuddered at the thought.

“You’ll rot there too! You can’t pick and choose your life anymore, Y/N! It’s like this everywhere!”

You shook your head, feeling heat rush into your face. “It doesn’t have to be! What if there’s something else out there? Something better?”

“You want to risk your life to find out?”

“Yes, Joel! I have to!” You heard your voice crack, and it was evident that the desperation in your body language had finally seeped its way into your words.

“Fine!” He barked, turning towards his liquor cabinet as you finished shoving your things into your bag.

“Fine!” You pushed the whimper out of your voice as you zipped your bag shut and made your way out of your shared apartment.

Once you’d slammed the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against the weakened wood. You shut your eyes as tight as you could, trying to will the tears away as you left down the stairs to where Tommy was waiting for you outside.

Present Day, 2023

“Joel?” A soft voice comes from behind where Joel had parked himself at the bar. Joel’s head snaps up at your near-silent entrance. “Is that you?”

“...Y/N?” He curses himself for letting someone sneak up on him yet again. But once he sees your face, sees that you’re okay and alive he feels himself deflate. He hadn’t heard from you since you left, only getting bits and pieces from his brother, though Tommy had refused to give Joel much more than that. Joel was sure that had been at your request. After a while, Joel had stopped hearing from Tommy altogether, and thus lost access to whatever minuscule amounts of information he’d been getting about you.

“They said that Tommy’s brother had come through. Guess they weren’t lyin’.”

“Guess they weren’t.” He mumbles, turning back to where he’d been picking at the chipping wood of the bar.

“You’re really gonna leave her?” You say softly, coming around to the other side of the bar. You pull two glasses from under the counter and turn to grab a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind you.

“Shit. How fast does word spread around here?” Joel says, watching your every move, trying to memorize the way you fit into this place so naturally, trying to convince himself that you’re happier here. Without him.

“Fast enough.” You sigh, placing a half-full glass in front of him. “Dammit.” He doesn’t grab the glass right away, staring at the sloshing liquid until it stills.

“You can’t leave her.” You say, resting your now empty hand against your hip.

“Like you left me?”

You sigh, moving to pull a stool from under the counter. You can’t bring yourself to sit directly next to him, not yet. You needed the foot of space that the bar provided to keep you from completely drowning yourself in his presence. “I didn’t have a choice, you know that. You meant the world to me. You still do."

“Do I?” “Joel.” You hesitate. “Do I?” He barks, and there’s a harshness to his words that hadn’t been there when he’d first asked the question. You appear to flinch, but he chooses not to comment on your obvious apprehension. You take a minute to compose yourself before beginning to speak.

“Of course you do. There hasn’t been anyone since you. I don’t know if there ever will be.” You look down at the bar in front of you, daring only once to sneak a peek at Joel’s hands that had finally clasped around the glass. “You don’t have to lie for me. I’m a big boy.” He takes a swig of his drink, grimacing at the pleasant burn it left as it traveled down his throat. “I’m not lyin’. You were it for me.” You continue to avoid his eyes as you busied yourself with wiping down the counter.

Joel grumbled, wanting to drop his head onto the old wood in front of him. “You’re too young for me to have been it for you.” “Maybe so, but I loved you.” “Loved?” “What does it matter to you?” You snap, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes. It was then that you noticed just how tired he was. Sure, he’d been grizzled and tired when you’d last seen him, but it seemed that the last three years had aged him faster than the previous seventeen had.

“Never mind.” He says, breaking eye contact and looking back down at where his fingers traced the carvings in the glass.

You soften, realizing just how much you’d truly missed him, how much you still miss him. You miss the way he’d hold you after a supply run went wrong – or right, for that matter. Joel had loved holding you whenever he got the chance. You miss the way he’d laugh at one of your shitty jokes, playfully pushing you away from him as you tried to get him to admit he’d found it funny. You blush when the thought pops into your head, but you also miss the way he’d put his whole body into kissing you, always made you lose yourself in the feel of his lips, his hands, and his thighs pressed against your body. You didn’t want to dig yourself any deeper of a hole, so you decide to bring the topic back to something you could think about without wanting to scream.

“Please don’t leave her, Joel.”

Joel groans, looking back up at you and frowning, “We’re back on this?”

“It’s important. I can tell how much she means to you.” “It’s none of your business,” he says, taking a final swig of his drink.

“Isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, looking down at the empty glass in front of him, “Nope.”

“I suppose it’s not,” you relent, moving to pour him another few ounces. He lets you.

“I’m glad we finally agree on something.”

You nod, looking down at the bottle in your hands. You place the bottle back on the shelf, turning back to take a drink out of your own glass. You decide to push it further.

“Ellie’s not going to let you leave her.”

Joel sighs as if he’s annoyed that the conversation has continued, but he doesn’t leave. For that, you are thankful.

“What do you know about her?” He demands quietly, still refusing to look back up at you.

“I know enough.”

“I’m not gonna leave her,” he concedes, “I’m gonna give her a choice. Let her stay here or come with me.”

“She’s gonna choose you.”

“How do you know? You didn’t.”

“That was different.” “Was it?” He grunts.

“Yes. Because I regret it.” At this, his eyes snap up to meet yours. You’re looking at him sadly, as if it was obvious, as if he should have known that you regretted leaving him. Maybe he should have. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just staring at you and watching the tears pool in your eyes.

“Oh,” is all he comes up with, and you frown.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? That I regret leaving you? That I’ve been miserable this whole time without you?”

“No, of course not,” he says sincerely.

You scoff, rolling your eyes and taking another drink from your glass, “Yeah right.”

“You think I wanted you to be miserable?” Joel says, finally standing from his seat at the bar, “I’ve thought about you every day since you left. I didn’t want to let you leave, but I also knew I had no power to stop you. I knew you were miserable in Boston. I knew I couldn’t convince you to stay.” “Even with how miserable leaving you made me feel, I think it was the right choice.” Joel frowns again, and the wrinkles around his eyes become only more prominent. You yearn to press the obvious hurt out of his face. You don’t let him speak, holding up your hand as you continue talking.

“I think I had to leave you. I don’t think I realized how important you were to me until I didn’t have you anymore.” At your words, Joel's frown only hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t you tell me what I mean, Joel Miller,” you snap, your back straightening from where you’d been leaning against the shelf.

“If I was so important to you, why didn’t you come back?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Joel’s face softens. He looks at you like you’ve just told him the most heartbreaking news he’d ever heard. “What?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it, “You thought…” he trails off, not allowing himself to finish the thought.

“I thought you hated me.” You blurt. You curse yourself, you’d meant to say it softer than that, to maybe sugarcoat it a little bit.

“You thought I hated you?” You don’t answer him this time, merely shrugging and looking down and tracing the grain pattern of the bar. “I could never hate you.”

He says it so harshly you feel as though you’re being scolded, and it only makes you shrink further in on yourself. He notices your shift and softens. He comes around your side of the bar, needing to be close to you, to feel your warmth again. You allow him to approach you, and when you don’t shy away from him, he feels a part of him that has been asleep for three years reawaken. He is filled with a sort of warmth that he never thought he’d feel again as he reaches up to cup your face, speaking softly, “Sweetheart, I could never hate you. Never in a million years could I hate you.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek, and he may be imagining it, but he thinks he feels you press your face into his hand. You close your eyes, but he has more to say.

“Y/N, listen to me. We’ve been through too much for me to ever hate you. I’ve seen you at your absolute worst and I still wanted you so bad it hurt.”

You pull away from his touch, and he feels cold again.

“That was before I left,” You say, almost as if you’re ashamed of yourself.

“That’s true. Even after that, though. I never hated you. Not for a second.” “Don’t lie to me Joel,” you almost whimper, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment at letting your voice crack.

“I’m not lying to you. Sure, I was pissed. Heartbroken, even. I thought you and Tommy were idiots for leaving, but there’s no way in hell I ever hated you for it.”

You give a non-commital shrug, still avoiding eye contact with him, “sure,” you eventually mumble.

“I’m telling you the truth. I have to reason to lie to you.”

“To spare my feelings, maybe.” You say softly, now fidgeting with your fingers.

“When have I ever done that?”

This makes you chuckle quietly, and he’s filled with a sort of pride that warms him from the inside out. There’s my girl, he finds himself thinking. Your laugh and your smile fades, and with it, that fuzzy feeling in Joel’s chest.

“You should hate me.” You finally say.

“I know,” he says, reaching up to touch you again. This time, he reaches for your hair, pushing a lock of it from your face, “But I can’t bring myself to.”

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again, “I thought I hated you.” Joel’s hand drops from your face.

“What?” He tries to keep the fear out of his voice, and from your lack of reaction, he hopes that he’s succeeded.

“I thought I hated you because you let me leave so easily. I thought you’d just decided you didn’t need me anymore. That I wasn’t worth fighting for. That was stupid, I realize that now. But I wrote some pretty bitter things about you in my journal.”

Joel’s hand moves back up to your face, this time to brush away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, “I could never not need you.”

You shake your head, moving out of his grip again. “You did just fine for more than a decade without me.”

“Maybe I just didn’t realize how alone I was.”

This makes you laugh again, but not in a way that fills Joel with warmth. It’s bitter, doubtful, and angry.

“I could show you,” he starts again, moving back into your personal space, “if you’d let me. I could show you how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

“I don’t…” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me.”

“Joel…” you start again, but this time you let yourself trail off, not knowing what you were going to say, just knowing that you should probably say something.

“Please sugar,” he starts again, placing his hands softly on your shoulders. You don’t move any closer, but you also don’t move away, so Joel keeps going, “You said it yourself. There’s still a small part of you that loves me, even if you probably shouldn’t.”

You mumble something to yourself, something Joel couldn’t make out. He reaches up to move your face towards him, to force you to look at him. You obey his silent request, looking up and into his eyes that were somehow still so soft, even after all these years.

“It’s not a small part of me, Joel,” you say again, speaking louder this time, “It was never a small fucking part. My whole being was devoted to you. It tore me apart to leave you. I was useless on the road. Once we were with the Fireflies, I threw myself into my work and my chores so that I didn’t have to think about the huge Joel-shaped piece that was missing from my heart. I hate myself for leaving, and I hate myself even more for not going back to Boston and fighting for you. I was a coward. I still am.”

By the time you’re finished talking, tears are streaming down your face. Joel is looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen, and it makes you want to curl into a ball and never speak to anyone again. He lets you cry for a moment before he responds.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m a coward too. I could have just as easily come looking for you.” “I never expected you to.” You squeak out, in between your sobs “And I never expected you to come back. That doesn’t mean I got over you leaving. I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. And I hadn’t, not until I saw you here.”

Once he finishes speaking, he finally pulls you into his chest and just lets you sob into him. He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, in that empty bar, with his arms wrapped around you, but what he does know is that he never wants to let you go. Eventually, your sobs fade to quiet sniffles and you shift in order to wrap your arms around his body. Even though the two of you are pressed against each other, the way you grab at him makes it seem as though you need him even closer. You mumble something into his chest that he can’t quite make out, so he pulls you away from him. You whine at the loss of his touch, but you quiet once you see how he looks at you.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“I said I love you.” You sniffle, reaching up and wiping a tear from his face.

“I love you too, Y/N. God, do I love you.”

part two

#my writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #ellie williams #hbo #hbo!joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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daizymax · 8 months

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the ways we love | lfl (m)

summary: periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. after he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established relationship; profanity; mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mention of having children; graphic sexual content; dom!felix; dirty talk; use of pet names; fingering; some spit play; oral sex (m receiving); some spanking; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; creampie; aftercare

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. i think this will be the last of the fics from my old blog that i'll be reuploading here for the foreseeable future. also, i forgot how much fun i had writing the smut in this one. hope you enjoy!

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

---

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help. This was his idea, after all.

But now… now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t — “Doll, can you please stop moving?” — then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs in that sweet, deep voice of his. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Lix. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as you are.”

Felix huffs and averts his eyes, but you know you have appeased him from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue spreading across his freckled nose, ears and cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to finish your outline and flesh out some details around his nose before his real-live self ruins his posture — and subsequently, the lighting on his face — by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants and say, “How about a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be — agreement, argument, or otherwise — does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his heart-shaped lips afterward.

He mistakes your admiration for scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge of ice in his cheek. “Nothing at all. I just like looking at you.”

He crunches the ice and blushes deeper. “Thanks. Don’t you need to do that from the other side of the room, though? Any idea when you might be finished?”

You shrug and fuss with the collar of his shirt until it un-creases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, ‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’ I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this so you don’t have to model for me.”

Felix smiles softly. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered, didn’t I? I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way, like it might turn out better if we do it like this.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I make you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my next girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“No. God no,” he says firmly. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. You smile into the kiss when you see him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table beside him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away, back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means no playing,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his dark brown gaze.

These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Felix. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one, to be sure, but always immensely rewarding.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no sex while you are working on a piece. Not until the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Felix asks again.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “The answer is the same, Lix. I can’t say for sure. A few hours, days, weeks?”

Your pretty muse nods and takes another sip of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought. He does his best to relax in his seat again, and you flash him a smile before getting back to work.

---

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Felix is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He might be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will ultimately be as happy as you are that it is finally finished.

Truthfully, you might have been able to do most of the portrait simply from memory; you know his face as well as your own by now.

A sigh flutters past your lips. You take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile. Not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve.

It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That is how you know you are satisfied, and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, so after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your phone to text Felix about an important dilemma.

[You: hey i forgot what you’re wearing today]

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

[Felix: i know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but i think you meant to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji]

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

You: dfjfdjso i’m not trying to sext you. i just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list tonight. we have some celebrating to do

[Felix: how come?]

[You: it’s finished]

This time your phone does not buzz. It rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Felix’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you say cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” he says, not the least bit offended. “This is definitely worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha— I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Lix. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I” — you hear the sound of a door closing in the background — “sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that portrait to be done. No offense. This deserves a grand celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “It didn’t take that long, did it? It was less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Felix grunts at the memory. “Yeah, how can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, remembering how neither of you could walk properly for at least a couple days after you finished that particular piece, which is now proudly mounted on a wall in the master bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we’ll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch.

“If that’s what Madame Artiste wants, then that’s what she’ll get,” Felix says.

He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you choose, he asks, “Can you just bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? I’ll see you later. I can’t wait.”

He ends the call with the sound of a kiss.

---

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping into the salon brings a smile to Felix’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his smile, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your date-night outfit with obvious appreciation. “Be right with you.”

“Take your time,” you say, smiling at the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Felix, who goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The third person in the salon gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor.

“You look so nice, Y/N. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you say, accepting the man’s hug. “What’s new, Ji?”

“Oh, not much.” Jisung shrugs and takes one of your hands. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to redo these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting them done in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because—” Jisung shoots your boyfriend a quick look and clearly alters the second part of his statement, “—you did them at home. You need to have them professionally done.”

His way of criticizing Felix’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is clever, and you have half a mind to applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

The comment is not lost on Felix. He glares over at you and Jisung, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe that’s my problem,” you say, grinning.

“Give me, like, fifteen minutes and you’ll be all set,” Jisung promises.

As he’s making his offer, Felix finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Jisung. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can either confirm or deny the appointment, Felix interrupts by coming up behind you and waving his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us,” he says. “Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle at his little joke until you flick through the bills and realize just how much worth is in them. “Wow, Lix, she was so generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Ji, we have to go. Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Jisung replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, Y/N.”

---

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Felix laughs happily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the apples of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter leaves, you watch Felix lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a whole lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, ‘Oh, no thank you,’ right in my face.”

“Listen,” he laughs in defense, holding up a finger. “I was trying to be polite. I was trying to be a gentleman. You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty what?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Hang on.” He holds that finger up higher. “So, so, SOOOO—”

“I said I get it already!”

“—so shit-faced. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You did embarrass me, though! By rejecting me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, dipping his head in apology, “but we both would’ve been way more embarrassed if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Uh. Did you or did you not sleep with my roommate that night instead?”

“Fair enough," you say, toasting your wine glass in his direction. “It’s only funny now because we’re the ones who ended up together.”

Felix smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty incredible with you in it, sweetheart.”

His words sober you a bit, and you smile back almost shyly. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. Neither are you. But he is still worth loving when he is at his worst, and if you could have moments like these scattered all throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough. His love and support and respect and admiration are more than enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming: “Please marry me.”

This time Felix raises an eyebrow. He seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway.

That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says ‘Oh, no thank you,’ again, you wonder if you’ll die of embarrassment right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Felix lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence. Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to show how serious you are about this.

Felix stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I would be honored to marry you,” he says softly, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the edge of his thumbnail.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his.

A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Felix’s precious, giddy laughter.

---

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and press him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how it works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Felix clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the hard-on in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly. It hurts.”

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you. You try to take his thumb into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Felix pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you. He adores seeing you so riled up and pliant for him.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body.

Eventually, he reaches the crease between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position. The soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found it.

“And here?” He takes a step closer while he begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt here?”

“Yes. Yes...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Mercifully. His deep voice is pitched even deeper when he murmurs, “Shh. I know it does. It’s finally time for me to make it better, isn’t it.”

You cant your hips against his hand. “Felix, please...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage you up against the front door. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word first, Y/N.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate the basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Felix smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls lowly.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe it’s a full-blown moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Felix. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed and up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Felix for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jaw and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes, so close,” you admit, completely unashamed. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Felix smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold onto me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Felix allows you to pull him even closer and finally — finally — slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he breathes. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and nudges under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“Ohhh my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Felix’s talented, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants. You’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. Come.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Felix kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. Tight. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So fucking perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your pussy cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, throbbing walls. He doesn’t even look at those fingers as he brings them to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though this is the first time he has ever tasted you.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Felix smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. But since you’re asking so nicely again… c’mere.”

He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Felix keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Felix nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Felix’s fingers in the air.

“Don’t get distracted now,” he says, deep voice rumbling. He drops his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed.

You shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Felix a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back to your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word ‘off,’ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your slick, heated center.

Felix uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks past the point of painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionate. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his covered crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Felix shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his toned abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is this what you want?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what you’ve been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that, baby?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And he patiently repeats: “No, what do you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the answer he’s looking for.

“Please,” you say, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Felix tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first, joining the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit.

You shuffle closer between his knees and take him in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of beauty and dominance.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious. Good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He is tangy from his natural body and sweet from the taste of wine lingering in his spit. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he says. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. So good for me. So good at sucking my dick.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“Hah,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it.”

On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how much he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit — there is no way to tell whether it is yours or his — still bridges your lips to his swollen cock. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Felix watches with dark, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “Hm?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you so good and so hard that you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of bouncing on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“Yes,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and folding them with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach — his jaw, his back, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

Felix relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck, or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Chair. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his swollen, spongy cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as does the rest of him until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s.

You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he is as deep and you are as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion.

Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Felix sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts in deep bass: “Bounce for me, baby.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and so fucking good. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking god…”

Felix keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze one of your tits.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the perked nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this so much.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Felix, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Sweetheart, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he moans with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap, aren’t you?”

“Lix, I-I’m s-s-so-” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. We’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Felix, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just—”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Felix is plunging his steely length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just don’t fucking stop, whatever he does.

Felix leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he whispers, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come now, angel. Please.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and you’re finally coming again, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He fucks you through your entire high, never stopping the solid snap-snap-snap of his slim hips.

“God, fuck, I’m right fucking there,” he huffs and pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it? Where should I come?”

“In me, come in me,” you beg, reaching down to squeeze his tight ass and urge him even deeper into your soaked depths.

Felix whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks his cum into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but never completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his orgasm, but he is not quite finished.

“Holy shit,” he whimpers. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight, I think I could come again.”

Your walls clench around him because you know he is serious. “Do it, baby,” you pant hard. “Use my pussy to come again. I want it all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just a little more, I’m gonna— fuck!”

He finds a second shaky high and buries his fingers in your hips deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum toward your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Felix sighs again, blissful and fucked out. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot,” you giggle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Felix laughs quietly, deeply. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same.

Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m actually really proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface. Without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish.

The moment it is revealed, Felix eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see inside that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“Y/N,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?”

Felix turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid— I love it! I don’t even know where to begin! The detail, Y/N! It’s so—” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge of the canvas. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the lighting here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “You did my freckles so well, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you captured literally every single one of them. It’s, like, scary good. And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has ever actually looked this good in real life.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is way better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you anymore, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, sweetheart.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Felix takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Jisung sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Felix what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even wants to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #the ways we love #daizymax

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snoopyearss · 6 months

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Hi dear ! I am so in love with your Nanami Kento writings that OMG I am crying (it's tears of joy no worries) I just love this man so much ! I was wondering if it's okay for you to write a request where Nanami dates or marries a fem! Shy reader ? How would he flirt ? As she also slowly gains confidence to initiate things with him cause his presence is so comfy for her.

It can be just all fluff or with tinges or spice/nsfw if you are okay with writing it.

Just wanted to thank you again for your stories and can't wait to read more Nanami posts. You're awesome! 🩶

Hi angel! I’m so happy you love my writing! This is such a cute concept and honestly, I see him with a shy partner. I hope I did it justice! 🖤

CW: some smut!

It was a rainy afternoon, you were cooking you and your boyfriend dinner and swaying your hips along to some smooth jazz he played on the stereo. You looked over to him, fully invested in the book he was reading. You smiled as you walked over to him and crawled into his lap.

“Hi honey,” he chuckled. “Hi,” you snuggled up against his chest. “Dinners’ almost ready, I just placed the roast in the oven.”

“It smells wonderful.” He kisses your nose, he knows it makes you weak every time. You both start at each other for a while, something you guys like to do.

“You’ve grown more comfortable around me,” he pointed out. “I have?” You sat up in his lap. “You have. Do you remember when we met?”

You pretend to look clueless since you loved it when he would tell the story. “I’m assuming you would like me to tell the story?” You nod your head in excitement as he chuckles and holds you tight in his arms.

Flashback

When Nanami Kento first met you, it was at a local coffee shop you would frequent. You would see him walk in around the same hour every time you went; 7:30am. The both of you didn’t know each other very well, he would give a “good morning” and you would smile in response. It wasn’t very often you saw a man that attractive so it made you nervous. Even if it was just a simple act of hello.

On this day however, you were running late to your job and didn’t have the time to make yourself a cup of coffee. You grabbed your keys and went straight over to the cafe, refusing to deal with your coworkers on an empty stomach and no caffeine.

“Hello, may I have a-”

“Can you speak up? I can’t hear you.” The cashier interrupted you.

“I’m sorry, um…May I have [your order] please?” You requested as the cashier heavily tapped on the screen. “Will you be paying cash or card today?”

“Card.” You opened your bag to look for your wallet.

It was nowhere to be found.

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself. You fished around in your purse to find any loose change, but no luck. “No way, I forgot my wallet..”

“Ma’am, you’re holding up the line.”

“I’ll take care of it.” You heard a warm sultry voice speak from behind you. You turned around to find that same handsome man who comes in regularly. Your eyes shift to the left wall and stare at the clock. 7:30am. They then shift back to his big chest, causing your face to heat up.

“O-Oh! Um, you don’t have to! I’ll just come back later, no big deal.” You softly replied. You couldn’t look him in the eyes without stuttering. “I insist, I know what it’s like to not have your daily caffeine intake. I’ll take the green tea with a blueberry muffin as well please. Just combine our orders together, Thank you.”

You softly thanked him and looked down in slight embarrassment. The both of you went to the pick up line and waited for your orders. “Thank you again. I will pay you back every dime.” You promised.

“There’s no need. Any thing for a gorgeous woman like yourself.” His compliment made you eyes widen a bit and cause your face to heat up.

“My name is Kento,” he stuck out his hand to shake yours. “Y/n.” He smiled, he thought your name was beautiful. From that point on it changed the trajectory of your relationship with him.

You found yourself going to the coffee shop instead of making coffee at home, purposely going so you were just in time to see him. And he would be there to see you. He would pay for your coffee and pastry just so you both can talk about the most random things while you wait for your orders. He never made you pay for it, that wasn’t up for discussion.

It got to a point where you both would come in an hour early just to have time to sit and talk with each other. Nanami is a very organized well thought out person. Before making any big decisions, he thinks them through completely. But with you for some reason, you made him not question anything and just go for it. He knew you were a shy girl, based off of what he had seen. So he tried to make his advances as subtle as possible.

“You know Y/n, you’re such great company. I would love to take you on a date,” your eyes widened. “A date?”

“Yes. And as much as I love out coffee talks, I want to take you out. When we can have all the time in the world to get to know each other.” He told your free hand that was rest on the table and caressed it. Your body felt hot.

“I-I would love that.”

So here you are, getting ready for your date with Nanami. You truthfully never thought this would happen, but hell are you grateful it did. You smooth out your dress and apply more lip gloss before grabbing your purse and opening the door to the blonde staring back at you.

“Good evening, gorgeous.” He hands you a bouquet of flowers.

It was a few hours after your date and you invited him back to have a glass of wine. You both sat on the couch while jazz played on your tv.

One thing led to another and you two are getting touchy on your living room couch. The both of you finished two bottles of wine and it was flowing through you. He placed a big hand on your thigh and caressed it like he does with your hand. Your breath hitches at the feeling and you spread your legs lightly to invite him in.

“Dirty girl, do you want me to move my hand further up?” He cooed. You whimpered and nodded your head lazily. “When you’re with me, you use your words. Understand?” He takes he’s other hand to hold your jaw to face him.

“Y-Yes, I understand,” you whimpered. He chuckled. “Look at you baby, you can barely look at me in the eyes. Shy girl. Do I make you feel like this?” His face was so close to yours at this point.

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

He caressed your cheek and brought his face closer. His lips softly grazed yours as you both exchanged a passionate kiss.

Nanami found your shyness cute, especially in the bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of your cries of pleasure and the way you would drag your fingernails down his arms. The first time you both had sex, he noticed you holding back.

“I need to hear you, princess. I need to know how I’m making you feel. Don’t get quiet on me know” he would moan and he drags his dick im and out of you at a pace that has your mind going fuzzy.

“O-Oh my god, Kento! Fuck! Yes yes yes yes yes,” you chanted as your eyes rolled back. “There you go baby, let it out.”

Sex with Nanami could honestly change someone for the better. After that, you genuinely felt unstoppable. Your shy exterior was etched away with each moment you spent with him. You found yourself more talkative with people at your job, even taking bathroom breaks to send your boyfriend some risqué photos.

‘You’re such a tease pretty girl, I’m coming to get you on your lunch break.’

And he would fuck you senseless in the backseat of his car. And you wouldn’t give a fuck about who heard you, or how you looked when you clocked back in. That’s how he made you feel.

After a few more dates of going to various restaurants, museums, jazz bars, and your favorite, at home dates, you both came to an agreement to move in together. It was one of the best decisions both of you could’ve ever made.

End of Flashback

“You love when I tell that story, don’t you?”

“Who wouldn’t?” You grinned and got up to check on the food. Nanami placed his book back on the shelf and shoved is hand in his pocket.

“And I want to keep telling it forever,” He murmured as he pulled out a small black velvet box with a ring inside.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk anime #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #snoopyearss

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mcuamerica · 5 months

Text

The Shadowsinger: Seven

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Mentions of wing clipping, misogyny, threat of death, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your time to act as emissary has come as Rhys needs you and Cassian in Windhaven.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six

Windhaven was a lot colder than you remembered. You must have forgot how cold Illyria was, even if it was your home for the first 120 years of your life. Regadless, you didn’t let it show as you followed Cassian over to where Lord Devlon was standing over the camp. You could see the cabins, the tents, the training rings… it looked so similar to Valorworth that you almost stumbled over your feet. But you kept your stoic mask on, making sure to look unimpressed as you made your way over to them.

“Cassian..” Devlon trailed off, scowling as he saw you. “Who is this?” He asked, eyes trailing over your shadows and to your wings. “A pet of Azriel?” He asked, already assuming your worth.

“Another Shadowsinger.” Cassian said with a smirk on his face. “This is (Y/N). She’s going to be emissary from the Night Court to the Illyrian camps, to ensure the females are receiving proper training.” He said.

If he was surprised by another Shadowsinger being in his midst, he didn’t show it. “Are you on your cycle?” He asked, ignoring the fact that you were an emissary and should be treated with respect. You rolled your eyes. The Illyrian males and their ways… you were going to have to get used to it again.

“No, but it wouldn’t matter if I was.” You said. “We don’t taint objects when we bleed, just as you don’t.” You said firmly, crossing your arms. Not that any female would want to even think about fighting while on their cycle. Most times it was too painful to leave the bed. In your experience. Cauldron, you had your cycle just before you were released from Under the Mountain and Amarantha was no sympathizer when you needed the time in your chambers. Alone. To writhe in pain.

“That is our way, and if you are to be an emissary to us, you’ll have to respect it.” He said.

“Regardless, I am not. If you are so concerned, have your blacksmith create separate weapons for the females to use.” You stated, narrowing your eyes at him. It was a good idea, one that you might just use your salary to fund. Rhys funded practically everything else for you anyway.

Cassian cleared his throat before he could respond. “We’ll be staying in Rhys’s cabin, is it occupied?” He asked and Devlon growled out a yes.

“You think as a camp Lord, you’d be happier to see your Lord Commander.” You snapped and crossed your arms. “I’m also pretty sure he could snap your neck, seeing as you’ve only got 2 Siphons, if he wanted to, so why don’t you show him any respect?”

Devlon stepped towards you. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll make sure you can’t even step foot in this camp or another one ever again. No matter what the High Lord wants to call you.” He growled. “I don’t see any Siphons on you, anyway.”

“That’s because you males don’t allow females to have them. But I can assure you, my shadows will do the work for me just as easily.” You said, not backing down from his stare. He wasn’t much shorter than Rhys or Azriel, but he was definitely taller than you.

“Okay… this is a lovely first meeting. Get your males out of the cabin. We’re going to take a look around.” Cassian said and looked at you nodding towards the camp. “I expect it to be ready in an hour.” He said before starting to walk down the hill. You stared at Devlon before following Cassian.

“I don’t know how you put up with that.” You said.

“He trained me, and as much of a pain as he is, he’s the most willing to change the ways of his army to what we want.” He said. “As fun as that was to watch, I suggest not threatening to snap his neck again. You want to be on his good side. Especially as a female.” He said.

Something about being back in an Illyrian camp made your blood boil. That simmering rage was bubbling to the surface. Maybe because last time you were at one, it was for Amarantha to ensure her “allies” were truly telling her everything. Since that was the camp that turned you in, you had no problem listening to their secrets. Until you saw what she did to them. And the children. Fallen wings flashed through your mind, and you had to shake your head to come back to the present.

Your temper was already high and Devlon didn’t help. Cassian telling you that you needed to ‘play nice’ because you were a female wasn’t making you any less agitated.

“If you can’t handle this, you can-“ he started when you marched past him.

“Handle this?” You growled and whipped around towards him. “Do you know what it’s like to be a female in an Illyrian camp? Cause it’s a lot worse than being a bastard whose found brother is a High Lord.” You seethed, shadows whirling around your body as if to restrain you from pouncing on him. “You get seven Siphons. You get to participate in the Blood Rite and call yourself Carynthain. You get to train. You get to make decisions without having your wings threatened.” You spat, finally looking up at him. You could see the surprise in his eyes. The small amount of hurt that he let show. You immediately regretted snapping at him. You went to apologize but he shook his head.

“You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like.” Cassian simply said. “But you haven’t been here in a long time. Nor have you been to this camp. And I’m not saying it’s much better, but these males are willing to change for us. Change their traditions for a better army. If that means meeting them in the middle, or working with them with the little they give, then we do it. Because we can’t force them to change their ways. We’ve tried and it hasn’t worked. But with your help, we’ll get there. And it won’t help anything if you threaten every male you run into. Especially if they haven’t seen what you’re capable of.” He said.

You bit the inside of your lip, nodding your head. “I didn’t mean to call you a bastard.” You admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“I am one. No point in denying it.” He said and winked. “Come on, let me show you around.” He said and walked in front of you. Normally, he would sling his arm over your shoulder. But that would make the Illyrians mock you further, and he knew that wouldn’t help your already rising temper. You hadn’t shown it to him yet. He wondered if Rhys had ever seen you so riled. He didn’t even know you had it in you.

Then again, you were in a place that reminded you of a world of hurt and pain. A place that gave you no respect… other than maybe that you could provide a male child for the Illyrians one day. But even then, that wasn’t respect.

So he didn’t let it get to him. He knew what these camps did to females. And he knew that Valorworth in particular would be a hard one to crack. They still had problems with the males clipping females’ wings. And even more of a problem with getting the girls to train out of fear they wouldn’t be accepted by their mate or would be “sullied” because they chose to fight. While in Windhaven, you would be training with Cassian. Rhys didn’t want you to train with the other females yet, not unless you wanted to… And you made it clear the day before you didn’t want to. Not yet, at least.

“Have you ever tried a Siphon?” He asked curiously as you walked towards the training rings.

“You’re kidding, right? The day the Cauldron boils over is the day they’ll allow a female to even try ON a Siphon. Besides, I don’t even think I have killing power to begin with.” Your said.

“Have you ever tried?” He repeated and smirked when you shook your head. “You know, there have been female Illyrian warriors before. Not many, and not in hundreds of years, but it’s happened before.” He said.

You looked at him skeptically. “I’ve never heard of an Illyrian female warrior. Not that fought among males.” You said. You remembered stories of the Valkyries. You even thought that Cassian might have known them, with how old he was. Rhys, Az, and him all fought in the war. The Valkyries all died then… That was the closest you heard of a female fighting in the ranks of Illyrian males.

“Have Clotho pull out books on the Erthican age, focusing on Illyria.” He said and smirked. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

He didn’t say anything else when he approached the training ring. You saw some females training, only four, with a male who looked either displeased to be training them, or displeased with their positions. Probably both considering a) he was a male and b) their fighting posture was horrible. You were better when you started two weeks ago. But you had hunting experience. And experience under Amarantha. So you couldn’t judge them. Not when they were trying. And they seemed to want to be there. The male, however, did not.

“This is what they call training?” You whispered to Cassian.

“This is the best we can get right now. That’s why you’re here.” He said. “You want to show these males how far a female can come with two weeks of training?” He asked and opened the gate to an empty training ring. You were aware of the eyes suddenly upon you.

“I’m not sure they’ll be impressed.” You said and shifted on your feet, but kept your back straight and your head high. You would not cower in front of these males. Never again.

“Trust me, they will.” He said and nodded as he motioned for you to hand him your coat. You slipped it off and set it on a rock instead. Anything that showed the males you and Cassian were more than a trainer and his trainee would show you as weak.

The cold air almost made you shiver but you quickly got into position with Cassian to start the warm up stretches. It took no time for you both to start sparring, Cassian reminding you to pull your left foot in closer, or to pick up your left shoulder. Or to not flare out your wings so much. All gentle, small reminders, and nothing to mock you. Eventually, you grabbed the practice swords, practicing with those. You went through the eight point star, the sweeps, blocks, and parries that would all be vital to know in a fight. When you were done, you were sweating in your leathers. You were glad when the cool winter breeze glided across your skin. Your shadows had calmed during your training, trailing on the ground. And your temper wasn’t boiling anymore. It was buried deep inside, where it would stay for as long as you could keep it. Getting angry at Cassian, or any of the other Illyrian males, would only show them your weaknesses. And you wouldn’t let that happen. Maybe with Cass, but not the others.

You looked back towards the camp, seeing a group of males that had been watching you. You couldn’t hear what they said, but you cast your shadows out with a simple wave of the hand. They scattered across the ground, then came back an instant later. “Cassian goes easy on her” “She couldn’t do that with a real sword” “She can’t take him down”. All the whispers that came back. You looked at Cassian and narrowed your eyes.

“I want to spar for real.” You said, low enough that only he could hear it. “No swords, and no pads.” You said. “And none of my shadows helping me… let me show them what I can do. And don’t hold back.” You said.

Cassian glanced at them and then back at you, frowning a bit. “That’s not a good idea. We’re still at the beginning of your training. But if it were to go wrong, it would have the opposite effect.” He said.

“Cassian-“

“I’m still your commander. No matter what, it’s important for me not to push you. And this would be pushing.” He said. “Come on, let’s go to the cabin. It’s been two hours and we need to clean up before going through the rest of the camp.” He said, pausing when you stood your ground. “(Y/N)… we’re here for two weeks. At the end of that, I’ll fight you for real, okay?” He asked. Cassian didn’t like pulling rank, but if that would be what got you to back down, he might just have to do that.

You thought for a moment and then nodded. “I think that would be a good Solstice present.” You joked and grabbed your coat, not daring to put it on as you were still sweating. You needed these leathers off you. And a bath. Now.

You let your shadows rest around your shoulders and arms as you walked past the Illyrian males, and some females, towards the cabin. “This is Rhys’s cabin?” You asked.

“His mother’s actually. It was, at least… This is where Rhys, Az, and I grew up… this whole camp is… but this cabin is where she raised us. And where we got into Mother knows what when we were young.” He said and smiled fondly. It was the same smile that came to your face when you thought about Sirona, Igna, or Oran. Something nostalgic and filled with loss, but also happiness.

“You’d give anything to go back to those days for just a few moments.” You suggested. “I know the feeling… If I could visit my home near the northern mountains again… with my family. Or when my mother was still alive… I would.” You said and looked at the cabin.

“Come on, let’s wash up and then I can show you the rest of the camp.” He said and gave you a small smile before opening the door.

Cassian showed you around the rest of the camp after you’d taken a bath and changed into some warmer clothes for the Illyrian winter night. The Winter Solstice was three weeks away, and you knew that it would only get colder from here.

You wore the coat that Mor gave you (it brought the perfect amount of warmth without making you sweat under it) as Cassian led you to the female cabins. The ones that housed the females that were without husbands, mates, or males that would take care of them. You saw the four that were training earlier. They were doing housework. They didn’t seem too much older than you were when you left Valorworth. If you were to be offered a chance to train back then… you weren’t even sure if you would have taken it. Your father certainly would not have allowed it.

And then he showed you the few shops they had in town. About five, and one of them was the blacksmith. Which he said he wanted to visit quickly. You looked around and decided to go to the tailor shop you noticed, tucking in your wings as you entered the shop. “Hi,” you said as you saw a man at the small table at the back. He seemed to be a seasoned warrior, and now you guessed he ran this shop since a war wasn’t raging at the moment. Still, something of him reminded you of your father, so you stayed on edge. As you would with every male in this camp other than Cassian. “Do you have any gloves? I seem to have forgotten mine.” You said as you looked around.

“I have wool lined or leather,” his voice was gruff.

“Leather would be best,” you said as you approached the table.

“Emerie,” he called to the back. “Grab the female gloves… 5 copper marks,” he said as he turned back to you.

“5? They should be worth 3,” you said and he rose his eyebrows, shocked that you suggested otherwise.

“5, or you can find another tailor at this camp who will sell them to you.” He growled. He obviously didn’t like that a female was trying to barter with him.

You held in a sigh and pulled out the marks, setting them on the table. You didn’t have it in you to fight with an old male today. Certainly not when he was so easily agitated by a female.

“Here you go, father,” the female said, coming out from the back and setting the pair of gloves down. Your eyes immediately focused on her wings. The small amount of faelight showed scars that could only mean one thing. Her wings were clipped. And by the looks of it, not by a healer. You looked down at the gloves and reached out for them, but stopped when the man put his hands on top of them.

“I haven’t seen you around here… what camp are you from?” He asked. The female named Emerie only stayed standing behind her father. Not in a scared, cowering way, but curious.

“Technically, Valorworth. But I live down south, in- Hewn City now.” You said, remembering how Velaris was to be kept a secret from anyone you encountered outside the city.

“Ahh… the Court of Nightmares. How does an Illyrian female Shadowsinger end up there?” He asked, his hand unmoving upon the gloves.

You managed a glance to your shadows, frowning at his tone. “I know the right males.” You said and reached down, snatching the gloves from his hand.

“I’m (Y/N).” You said and offered a small smile to Emerie. “I’ll be here for two weeks with Cassian,” you said, assuming everyone in the camp knew who he was. Being the commander of the Night Court’s army and all.

Emerie didn’t reply as her father scowled, clearly not liking that you were ignoring him. You smiled at her again before turning around. “Thanks for the gloves.” You said and walked out the door.

A/N: And now we are in Windhaven! Why do we think reader is so on edge?

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damiansgoodgirll · 1 year

Note

Kylian x lawyer reader where he hires a lawyer to help him sign for Real Madrid please🫶🏼

kylian in madrid i don’t know how it makes me feel haha, i wish him the best btw (my heart is in paris with him tho…), honestly i’m manifesting that he joins juventus LOL i’m delusional

also i’m a bit ignorant on how football contract deals work so don’t mind if this is not 100% accurate to reality!

kylian mbappe x lawyer reader

real madrid?

you were shocked when you found out that you and your colleague got selected for helping a certain football player with his new contract deal. you thought that maybe it was his first time signing so probably he wasn’t an expert - not that you were too - but you were quite amused and shocked when you’ve been told that the football player that needed your help was the kylian mbappè.

his previous lawyer couldn’t help him because he had a very important case to take care of so he suggested your firm.

you were working for a very important firm in paris, so it was easy when people needed help because everyone knew you in paris. and everyone means everyone because that’s how kylian mbappè found you.

you’ve never worked on any football deal, nor your colleague did, so you were both a little nervous but you’ve been told about that the only thing you needed to do was reading and explaining the contract to kylian in case he couldn’t understand certain terms or words.

it sounded pretty easy.

expect no one told you that you had to be flying to madrid. your colleague couldn’t go as it was last minute and she had no idea how to manage her child if she was in madrid so she let you go all by yourself. saying that you were terrified was almost like a completely, no, you were shitting in your pants.

once you arrived in madrid you saw a private car waiting for you. that car got you to the hotel that kylian’s manager booked for you and the driver told you that he would be back in two hours to get you and to bring you to the offices where you would be meeting kylian.

you were not gonna lie, you were nervous to meet him. you always admired him, maybe you weren’t a football fan but you knew who he was, everyone knew who he was and you always had a soft spot for him. he always looked so nice and kind with the fans that made him seems like a completely normal person and not the famous football player the whole world knows.

you showered and got ready. opting for a very professional but at the same time very comfortable green dress, you finished to get ready and headed out where you saw the car waiting for you once again.

when you arrived to the structure you saw some people from kylian’s crew waiting for you. they all introduced himself and led you to the room where kylian was waiting his father and his procurator. you honestly had no idea who other else was in the room, you thought managers from real madrid since it was the team kylian was going to sign to but you had no idea and you didn’t ask.

the moment you entered the room and introduced yourself kylian’s eyes lightened up. he was waiting for the usual old and boring lawyer so he was surprised when he saw someone pretty and young as you.

“hello…” he waved at you, almost looking too shy.

“hi, i’m y/n, i’ll be the lawyer who will follow your deal today” you introduced yourself with a very bright smile.

kylian swore he fell in love. he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and you felt his look on you.

when kylian’s procurator was reading the contract he pretended to not know some words - some very basic words - only because he wanted to hear your voice. even his father knew he was doing it on purpose just to have your attention.

“kylian, you know this word…” his father remarked.

“well i forgot” he said, looking back at his dad.

the man simply nodded, losing all the patience he had. you knew kylian was doing it on purpose and honestly you found it funny. usually this things are boring, long contracts only for a two second signs at the end.

when everything was done, kylian took al the pictures he had too but rushed away when he saw you were going back to the car. that was your job for the day and the next morning you would be flying back in paris when kylian was going to stay in madrid, so why did you feel nostalgic for a person you met a few hours ago?

“hey!” you heard his voice calling you.

“oh hi, is everything okay?” you asked him.

“yes, yes everything okay, i was wondering if you…well, if you aren’t busy if you would like to have lunch with me?” he asked a little embarrassed and that made you smile.

“sure, why not!”

he brought you to this little cute bar in madrid where you had probably one of the best dish you’ve ever eaten in your life. you began chatting about your lives, your hobbies, what you liked and what you didn’t and in reality you had a lot of things in common.

who would have thought that from a simple causal job you had took it could have started this amazing friendship between the two of you? or maybe something more than friendship…

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shiftingparadise · 6 months

Text

Gojo x Reader (x Nanami): Let me be happy

Okay so Gojo’s a big red flag, but Nanami is really sweet 🥺🥺🥺 I really want to write a part 2 so let me know if you guys want me to. Enjoy reading 🤍

Word count: 1757

Warnings: smut - angst - cheating

“Aw, come on”, his hot breath against your shoulder, “You love this”. “I don’t”, you clenched your jaw, your heart heavy. “Liar”, he pulled you closer as his hand slipped between your thighs, earning him a cute whimper. “See?”, he chuckled, “We’ve been going for hours and you still want more”.

Of course, you wanted more. No girl in the world would ever get enough of Satoru Gojo. Not only did he look exceptionally good, but he also knew how to make a girl feel good.

“No, I don’t”, you ignored the throbbing sensation between your legs. “I’m done with feeling guilty”. “She says after the third round”, Gojo slowly let go before turning on his back.

You didn’t respond. He was right. You were a hypocrite.

“You always do this”, he slowly sat up straight, “You always ruin the mood by bringing her up after we’re done”. “I’m sorry that I remind you of the fact that you already have a girlfriend”, your eyes widened in disbelief. “Then stop showing up when I call you”, he now stood up before angrily putting on his pants. “Are you seriously blaming me?”, your heart started to race. “Are you seriously blaming me”, Satoru childishly repeated. “Ugh, I can’t with you”, you pulled the sheets over your head, “I don’t want to see you anymore”. “Ah, here we go again”, the white-haired man raised his voice. “Declaring how much you hate me, how you despise me for cheating… But I don’t force you to sleep with me. I don’t force you to sleep with someone who has a girlfriend”. Gojo paused for a second before he continued, “I hate that you’re always pretending to be good, to be so sweet and innocent when you’re practically begging me to fuck you”.

“Excuse me?”, you angrily threw the sheets from your naked body. “Am I wrong?”, he put his shirt back on. “Oh please, Satoru. Fuck me harder, make me yours, tell me I’m yours”, he repeated your words.

Why was he so attractive? Even now, when he was so annoyed and angry with you…

“Or the other day, when you wore that short skirt on purpose? When I was standing next to my girlfriend and you were dropping stuff on purpose just so I could look at your ass”, his tone suddenly softened.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”, you crossed your arms.

You could tell he wasn’t angry anymore. The look in his eyes, the smirk he couldn’t hide…

“Thought I made it clear when I pulled you into the classroom and fucked you dumb”, he slowly walked closer again. “Really?”, you looked to the ceiling, “Seems like I forgot-“. “Forgot, huh?”, he grabbed your jaw, “Seems like I need to remind you again…”. “Remind me of what?”, you looked into his eyes. “Remind you that you can’t wear stuff like that. I don’t like it when other guys look at you, you know that”, his brows pulled together.

Right. You were his, but he wasn’t yours.

“But I have to share you, right?”, you quietly replied. “You know I barely sleep with Utahime”, Satoru gently stroked your cheek, “We’ve talked about this”. “Hm”, you pulled away as you realized you had once again ruined the mood. “Fine”, his blue eyes seemed to darken a bit, “Look, she’s going on a mission soon. I’ll promise to stay over for the night when she’s gone”. “You mean we can sleep together? And eat breakfast together and-“. “Yeah yeah”, he waived your words away, “If that’d make you happy-“. “Thanks, Satoru”, you threw your arms around him, your knees now pressing into the soft fabric of your mattress. “I need to go now”, a swift kiss on your temple before he disappeared.

—-

“Shit”, Satoru hissed as his grip tightened around your hair, “See? That’s why I need you”.

God, the way he whimpered made you crazy.

“You know she could never make me feel like this”, his lips hovered against your ear. “Hm”, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as you followed his rhythm. “G-glad she’s on that mission”, his eyes closed in pleasure, “I don’t think I could’ve waited any longer for you. You know I need you, right?”. “I know”, your mind clouded in pleasure. “Think I’m going to come already”, a lazy chuckle, “You’re driving me crazy”.

This wasn’t right. You knew it wasn’t but you were in love, and every second with Satoru made you feel alive.

“It’s fine”, you softly bit into his earlobe, “We can go again”. “All night, all morning, all day”, his hands smoothly moved down your waist, “Inside?”. “Please”. “I’ll clean you up after, don’t worry princess”, his nails sank into your soft flesh as he picked up the pace.

It didn’t take long for him to finish. He loved your scent, your body, the way the moonlight made your skin seem so smooth and fragile… But he didn’t love you, and you were painfully aware of that.

“Satoru?”, you whispered once he got out of the bathroom.

He was holding a towel, ready to keep his word.

“What?”, he lazily tilted his head, his hair still messy as he crawled on top of you. “How long are we going to do this?”, your eyes glossy. “Don’t start, princess. Please”, he gently pushed your legs open as he cleaned you up with a towel.

Your heart sank to your stomach. You didn’t want to ruin the mood, but you needed to talk about this.

“Don’t you think I deserve more than this?”, your eyes avoided his. “What do you mean?”, his brows already pulled together. “Don’t you think I deserve someone that loves me? That chooses me?”, your voice broke.

This was the first time he stayed quiet.

“You have to choose”, a tear streaming down your cheek, “I can’t do this anymore. I want more, I-I deserve more-“.

“What are you saying?”, his patience running thin as he interrupted you. “Me or Utahime”, you finally looked at him, only to see a distressed face looking back.

Did he care for you? Was he afraid of losing you? Or just your body?

“Are you serious? We could’ve had a couple of nice days together. Why are you doing this?”.

He didn’t yell, he didn’t raise his voice in the slightest.

“Don’t you feel guilty?”. “N-no, I mean of course but-“. “Then choose”, you got up and headed to your bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower and if you’re still here, then you’ll choose me and if you’re gone well… Then this ends”, you tried to hide your tears.

You knew what he was going to do. You knew he didn’t care enough about you to stay. His heart belonged somewhere else.

“Satoru?”, your heart raced as you called out for him, your legs trembling.

No answer. No trace of him.

“Right”, you chuckled as you tightened the wet towel around your body. You knew this would happen so why did you feel bad? Why were you mad at yourself for making him choose? If you didn’t he’d still be here, and you would’ve been happy, but you had to do this. This wasn’t fair, not to you, and especially not to Utahime.

—-

“I’m so tired”, Nanami let his head fall back, “These damn kids are killing me”. “You can always go back to your old job”, you smirked. “Shut up”, he smiled.

After that night, you didn’t hear from Satoru anymore. It was still awkward when you came across each other, or when you needed to give training to your students together but it was for the best. You missed him, but you felt so much better now you were living without guilt; without secrets.

“Fine”, you giggled as you playfully brushed through his hair, “I need to talk to Shoko. I’ll see you later”, you took the last sip of your coffee as you walked out of the teacher’s room.

“Want to grab some dinner after?”, Nanami coldly asked before you left.

You froze. Nanami never asked something like that. You knew him since you entered Jujutsu High, back when you two were still teenagers, and he never asked you to go to dinner.

“Dinner?”, you softly replied. “Yeah, dinner”, he sat up straight again.

“ Isn’t there a meeting this evening?”, Gojo hastily intervened. “The meeting’s not until tomorrow evening”, Utahime sighed, “You really need to put the dates in your phone”. “Right”, Satoru clenched his jaw.

You widened your eyes. Why would he intervene like that?

“There’s this new place I’ve been wanting to try”, Nanami continued, “I’d love to take you there”. “Yeah, sure”, you blushed. “Good, I’ll pick you up around 7”, the blonde sweetly smiled at you.

You never saw him smile like that.

“Are you going to wear a suit?”, you teased him. He shrugged in response. “Ugh, fine”, you sighed as you turned around, “I’ll wear something nice too”. “Hm”, he hummed in response as he watched you leave.

“What the hell?”, Satoru couldn’t contain himself any longer, “What’s this? You suddenly like her?”. “It’s none of your business”, Nanami replied coldly. “Are you seriously that oblivious?”, Utahime rolled her eyes, “He’s been in love with her for years”.

“For years?”, Gojo repeated the words.

God, he wanted to blow up the entire school.

“What does it matter?”, Utahime now frowned. “N-nothing”, Satoru snapped back, “I need to train Yuji. I’ll see you later”.

That was a lie, of course. He wanted to catch up with you, to make sure you were his alone.

“What was that?”, he grabbed your arm as he pulled you into one of the empty classrooms. “Shit Satoru”, you pulled away, “Don’t scare me like that, you know I can’t sense you when you’re using your cursed-“. “What was that?”, he didn’t let you finish. “What?”. “Are you seriously going on a date with Nanami? He’s my friend-“. “Your friend?”, you chuckled, “You have a girlfriend and you’re worrying about what I do when we never even dated, we never-“, you stopped mid-sentence.

There was no point in explaining anything.

“You made your choice”, you softly whispered, “Now stick with it”.

You didn’t care that he was angry, or jealous. You deserved to be happy.

“Besides, it’s only dinner”, you looked over your shoulder before leaving. “Only dinner”, Satoru sarcastically replied, “I asked you the same thing once. Remember how we ended our ‘dinner’?”. You didn’t bother to respond. You were done with playing games.

—-

“Oh”, Nanami widened his eyes when you opened your door. “W-What?”, you hastily looked down, “I-is there something wrong with my dress?”. “No, it’s just”, he paused for a second as he tried to find the right words, “You weren’t joking when you said you were going to wear something nice”. “I-is it too much? It is right?”, you blushed in shame, “I’ll get changed”. “Please don’t”, his hand gently wrapped around your wrist, “It’s beautiful. Y-you’re beautiful”, he corrected himself.

So this wasn’t just dinner. He wanted to take you out on a date.

“Thanks”, your cheeks already red.

He gently guided you to his car before he opened the door for you. His hand gently rested at the bottom of your back the entire time.

“Do you find this strange?”, he looked at you, one hand on his steering wheel. “I don’t know”, you looked outside. “We’ve known each other for so long. You never made it clear you wanted to go on a date with me-“. “I did”, he sweetly chuckled, “Many times”. “T-that’s a lie!”, you turned to look at him. “Oh, is it?”, he raised an eyebrow. “Y-yeah!”, you sat up more straight. “Well, I’ve always bought you flowers for Valentine's Day. I’ve never let you go on a mission alone even when I got in trouble for it, I stayed by your side for weeks when Suguru left-“. “Okay okay, fine”, you crossed your arms.

“But you’re okay with this, right?”, he got serious again. “Of course”, you looked down, “I’m glad you asked”. “Good”, he nervously shuffled before his hand softly grabbed your thigh.

You widened your eyes as you looked at the blonde. He looked good, way better than Satoru for some reason. Nanami seemed mature, as if he could take care of you. The way his hand rested on his steering wheel, the veins on his hand, the way he softly pinched your thigh…

“We’re here”, he opened his door but stopped when he saw you opening yours. “What are you doing?”, he almost seemed agitated. “H-huh?”, you looked at him. “It’s clear you’ve never gone out with an actual man”, he clicked his tongue before he opened your door, his hand already waiting for yours. “Thank you”, you blushed as he once again guided you inside.

The rest of the evening felt like a dream. He felt like a dream. This was the first time anyone seemed truly interested in you and he made sure you knew how beautiful you were.

“I’m sorry I forgot flowers”, he clenched his jaw as he drove back to your place, “I’m an idiot for forgetting”. “Are you serious?”, you giggled, “I’ve never been this happy”.

Yes, you were a little tipsy but you were serious. You never felt this happy.

“So, you want to do this again?”, his hand once again on your thigh. “I want to do this every evening”, you smiled as you let your hand rest on his.

He stayed quiet. His heart was already racing when he felt your soft hand against his. He didn’t want to seem like a pervert, but he wanted nothing more than to see what was underneath your dress. He wanted to admire you, to worship your body, and to make you feel like a goddess.

You noticed his behaviour change; his flushed cheeks, and you felt it too. You didn’t want the night to end. So you gently guided his hand closer to the spot you needed him the most.

“Y/N”, his voice raspy as his grip around his steering wheel tightened. “What? You don’t want this?”, you slowly opened your legs a little bit. “N-no, I mean I do but-“. “But what?”. “I don’t want you to think I only want you for your body. I want you. The whole package. If we do this now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to live without your touch”.

You didn’t want to take things too fast, to jump into a relationship, but this felt right. He felt right. You wanted him. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know Nanami. You’ve known him for years and what you felt for Satoru couldn’t even come close to the feeling Nanami gave you.

“Please”, you looked at him with big eyes as you tightened the grip around his wrist. “Tsk”, Nanami smirked, “You’re needy”. “So?”, you guided his fingertips along your panties. “I’m driving”. “Please Kento, I can’t wait”. “Shit”, he grunted as he felt his member pressing against his pants, “You know I can’t say no to you”. You whimpered as you pulled your panties to the side, once again guiding his hand to the right spot. “You really needed this, huh?”, he smirked as he felt how wet you were for him. “Don’t tease me”, you let your head fall against the leather seat. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry”.

And he did. It didn’t take long before you came undone around his fingers. It felt as if he knew your body. Once he parked his car, the two of you hastily got inside like love-drunk teens.

“K-kento”, you murmured as he softly laid you down on your mattress, his hands exploring your soft skin. “Yes sweetheart”, he gently pulled your dress over your head. “Do you think I’m pretty?”. “You’re beautiful”, he whispered as he placed sloppy kisses on your breasts and stomach.

Your jaw dropped when he got undressed. His body looked like one of those Greek statues.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”, he chuckled as he grabbed your jaw, “Be good and open your legs for me”.

This was it. This was the moment you fell hopelessly in love.

“Good girl”, his hand now gently wrapped around your neck, “Tell me if it hurts, okay?”.

Hurts? Why would it hurt- Oh right, of course, he was this big.

“It’s fine”, you looked to the side, your eyes studying his arm. “Oh no sweetheart”, he gently guided you back, “You’re going to look at me when I take you”.

Butterflies. More than ever.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for so long”, his tip pressed against your entrance. “You know how many nights I’ve thought about you?”. “P-please Kento”, you arched your back. “Never thought you were so needy though”, he softly bit into your neck, “Don’t worry, as I said, I’ll take care of you”.

And he did. Satoru could never make you feel this good.

“Mine, all mine”, Kento grunted as he left marks on your entire body, “You’re made for me”. “I-I’m going to-“. “Ssh, it’s fine sweetheart. You can come”, he studied your pretty face which made it only harder for him not to finish too. “Shit”, he grunted. “Fill me up, please”, you looked at him with big and innocent eyes. Just what he needed. “So needy”, he chuckled, “Don’t let anything go to waste, okay?”. “Hm”, you closed your eyes in pleasure. “S-shit”, he let his head rest against yours as he found his release.

“All mine”, he placed a sweet kiss against your cheek before picking you up. “Wh-what-“. “I’m going to clean you up”, he gently placed you at the edge of your bath. “I’m going to take care of you, like I said”, he tilted your chin so you looked up at him.

You looked at him in awe. Why didn’t you notice his feelings for you sooner?

“If you want me to of course”, he leaned over the tub so he could fill it up with hot water. “Hm”, you softly whimpered, your eyes glossy. “W-what’s wrong?”, he widened his eyes as he immediately scanned your body to see if he hurt you. “Y-you’re so sweet”, you cutely sniffed.

It broke his heart to see you like this. How can anyone ever have treated you differently? You deserved nothing less than this.

“Come here”, he easily picked you up again as he slowly lowered you into the tub, “I’ll take care of you from now on”.

—-

You could feel Satoru’s eyes burning at the back of your head during that meeting the next day.

“Dinner at my place?”, Nanami’s hand rested on your back after the meeting. “Sounds great”, you placed a swift kiss on his lips. “Good, I’ll pick you up ‘round 8”, he happily smiled, “I’ll make sure to bring flowers this time”.

Yes, you loved that man.

“Just dinner, huh?”, Satoru scoffed once everyone left the room. You sighed as you put on your coat. “Are you serious?”, he widened his eyes as he noticed the mark on your neck, “One evening and you’re already spreading your legs-“. “Shut up”, you almost whispered. “I’m done with you. I’m done with being your sneaky link, your second choice… I’m happy now and it’s sad to see you still aren’t”.

“But-“. “Please Satoru”, you looked into his eyes, “Let me be happy. Stop being this egocentric idiot, and just let me be happy”.

Satoru didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He made his choice.

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devourable · 1 year

Note

i have delinquent brainrot rn shhfiwhikshwwh

i wanna know how the little groups of yanderes would react if their darling only liked one of them

i’m altering this a bit to darling having a preference/showing favoritism rather than exclusively liking one because it otherwise defeats the purpose of them being polyamorous :v

♾️ polyam!yanderes x biased darling

the delinquents all have varied reactions. mattias whines and cries about how you’re unfair and how he loves you the most/loved you the longest and therefore deserves the most attention + will literally pin you down to keep you from going to them, begging you to just let him show you how much he cares. aaron subtly sabotages the schedules of whoever you like more than him while also just so happening to always be free for you so you have no choice but to spend the extra time with him. judas constantly stalls you when you have set plans for someone else (“you didn’t do all your chores? let’s do them together” “you didn’t eat yet. i don’t want you filling up on junk, sit down while i make you something”), and if/when that fails, he takes a page out of mattie’s book and physically holds you until you give up and hand out with him. dominic tries his best to buy your love — bartering the pricier things he knows you want/need with quality time with him, even if you promised that time to someone else. alternatively, the three who aren’t preferred by you will sort of team up to try and even the score and get you to like them just as much.

the mermaids have the most actual infighting and will target their aggression at one another while rivaling for your attention. they’d never hurt each other and are generally fine with sharing, but when you take more of a liking to one of them over the others? expect a LOT of sabotaging to try and get you into their clutches. you like tomila? good luck fending off the besotted mermen someone directed to her because it’ll take her hours to get them to leave her alone. prefer kallisto? uh oh, seems like she forgot it was her turn to babysit their pod’s fry during your date! you’ll have to wait for their parents to return to spend time with her. lyonesse is your favorite? have fun watching her fight off sharks and other hungry predatory sea life. they must’ve caught wind that a vulnerable human was in the water… but it was totally a coincidence! your life with them will become so hectic that you’ll probably lose track of who you preferred in the first place.

the alt kids are the most respectful of one another when it comes to you. as much as they love you, they care about each other too. it’d be borderline abusive for them to selfishly deprive each other of your presence, even if you did like one of them more! so when you start showing a deeper interest in one of them over the other two, they’d go out of their way to try and include their other partners anyway. if it means they have to trick you, manipulate you, punish you — anything along those lines to get you to realize that you love them all equally, they have no problem doing it. they can be patient! you just need a little extra time to realize how good you have it with all three of them adoring you. you agreed to be with them all, and you’re going to love and be loved by them all.

#inbox | anons #🕷️ the alt kids #🪸 the mermaids #🚬 the delinquents #lovesick | ocs #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #polyam yanderes #poly yandere x reader #yandere girls #yandere teratophilia #nonbinary yandere

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starsillys · 5 months

Text

MASSIVE YAP WARNING!!!

getting this out here so I don’t for get later because the tamagotchi au is fresh on my mind and I forgot to elaborate further (I can yap for hours on end)

Kinito was the first created out of the three and was admired by a certain somebody quite a lot,,, he was a beloved character, so much in fact a silly secret guy basically decided to make his oc real and put a lot of efforts and time and lots of passion into creating this tamagotchi by scratch,, like doing the programming and assimilation and stuff,, so you can imagine the massive disappointment when his friend suddenly started bugging out quite frequently and eventually had just. Stopped working for a long while afterwards! Heart broken and stupid, unable to find the cause for this (something silly like. He like. Slightly dislocated a wire after dropping it or something causing it to constantly just have a blank screen by accident and he was unaware of this.. idk I never had a tamagotchi bfore guys I don’t know how they wor’k) he sold the gotchi as it over time became just. A sad memory for him yknow. Anyway Kinito was still very much on. He was awake and aware during this time of accidental abandonment. He just didn’t know the SILLY reasoning behind why his creator and supposed best friend had just left him aside to collect dust,, all alone,,, with no interaction for years,,, and he couldn’t really come out just as yet because after all that time he still had faith. He believed his friend would come back to him. That he wasn’t forgotten and just needed to wait! No need to come out. What if he was busy? What if he just didn’t had time right now? no need to come out, friend will come back so just stay inside. [spoiled once he was being sold like years later is when he actually finally came to the terms that he had indeed been given up on, and had purposely became inactive everytime you (y/n) after purchase tried to interact by feeding or playing with him via the tamagotchi mini games because he was still like. Horribly devastated. Still going through grief but overtime became more grown to his new friend, you!! Because despite how many times he’s refused to go along with any of the activities you tried to do with him, you never really stopped and gave him hope of some sorts that you won’t really be too quick to give up on him as easily! So he kind of took it as a new opportunity to start new,, and now being a bit more expressive of his needs for attention and care, rather than just waiting for you to do it for him whenever it is convenient for you, he will let you know when he needs something one way or another; being more confident with this new friendship to even going so far as to literally come out of the screen! Wowaz!

also side note. Ummmrrr,, kinito was always a very self aware/conscious entity. Like even during development, while he wasn’t rlly all there to process things and what they meant,, he was always conscious and listening. He’s basically one of those guys who had literally remembered everything since like the day of birth. You know those guys with crazy memory. Never forgets anything. so,, m mmm playing into a personal headcanon his creator who shall go unnamed wink wink nudge nudge is kind of a silly goofy guy,, a lil silly,, who likes to talk a lot even when alone,, ummm,,, Kinito picked up on everything dude. Like he was yess yess mhm I agree and listening silent and supportively. Listening to everything his friend was saying. Admiring his creativity and knowledge with what ideas he’d blurt out or how he’d talk to himself when he’d work. He especially loved the idea his creator would constantly talk about regarding the creation other digital entities(fish oc) Kinito loved this idea because it would mean he’d have friends of his own to interact with, since he figured he couldn’t directly so much with his creator, unfortunately. He would listen and observe the sketches or hear about the ideas and early concepts of jade and sam. He absolutely adored his friends, despite not ever meeting them before.

#kinitopet #kinito the axolotl #sam the sea anemone #jade the jellyfish #tamagotchi au #I’m crazy #im crazy #um crazy guys I’m insane I RAUHGHH #RIPPING MY SHIRT LIKE THE WOLF #Might me a teensy bit crazy about the nito guys Idk…#sonny chamberlain #i love you kinitopet #Star speaks (SHUT THE FUCK UP)

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whydontyousaeso · 8 months

Text

“Dashing”

Dashing era Cody Rhodes x reader

Warnings- swearing

Type- Enemies to lovers

A/n- haha so guess what the wheel chose(I screamed when it landed on Cody). Tbh I’ve been obsessed with his dashing era recently so this was perfect for me. Next will be tattooed in your brain pt 5! So be on the lookout for that!

Tag list: @alyyaanna @queencherryberry @codyswhitebelt @lizzyd1ish @southerngirl41

“Hey y/n, you’re gonna be in a mixed tag team match against Brie Bella and Daniel Bryan”

“Okay, with who?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, you’ve got an hour before the match”

And with that the producer walked away.

You sighed, frustrated with the lack of answers.

It could literally be anyone, the miz, Randy orton, hell— even Batista.

You normally didn’t like mixed tag team matches, but you couldn’t stop what the people booked for you.

“There you are, I was wondering if you were purposely running away from me.”

Fuck.

You turned to see Mr “Dashing” Cody Rhodes standing there.

How pleasant.

“A little birdie told me that we were working together for the match tonight.”

“Well that same little birdie forgot to tell you to fuck off.”

“Hey hey, no need to be so hostile. We’re both in the same boat here.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag with your ring gear in it.

“I’m gonna go get ready. Don’t bother me until the match Rhodes.”

“Trust me, if there’s anyone I listen to it’s gonna be you baby doll.”

You huffed as you finished your hair, seeing the hour turn into fifteen minutes.

You were really dreading this.

“What’s wrong Y/n?”

You looked over at AJ

“I have to do a match with Cody”

“Wait seriously?”

“Yes and he’s a prick! He just cares about how he looks”

“But he looks good y/n! Come on you can’t be atleast a little attracted to him!”

You rolled your eyes.

Every diva was obsessed with him.

You didn’t see the appeal.

“Come on, he seriously looks good!”

You shook your head.

“I just want this match to be I’ve already.”

You came out first, making your way to the ring while Cody did his entrance.

You watched him, and in reality he did look good today, but you still hated his guts.

As he made his way onto the apron he winked at you, causing you to scoff.

Unfortunately you had to act like you liked him.

You turned your attention to the other two making their entrance.

They had just started dating recently, so of course they had to feed the crowd with lovey stuff.

You watched Bryan twirl her around and dip her, kissing her on her lips.

“Hey, you think that could be us?”

You turned to see Cody looking at you and smirking.

“Are you seriously trying to get laid while our match is about to start?”

He just shrugged with that shit eating grin.

“You’re unbelievable Cody.”

“Here is your winners, Dashing Cody Rhodes and Y/n!”

You stood up after pinning Brie, a smirk on your face.

Cody slid into the ring and reached out, but you turned away quickly.

“Come on y/n, I’m not that bad really.”

You shook your head and held up your hand with the ref, quickly getting out afterwards.

You saw him follow you, chasing quickly.

He wasn’t gonna let up any time soon.

You tried to make your way backstage as soon as possible, but it was like he just kept following you.

When you finally did make it you turned towards him, upset.

“I’ve done told you no, what do you not understand Rhodes?”

You grabbed your things quickly and started making your way out, hearing him chase after you.

“I know that you’re also extremely stubborn. I don’t chase after women surprisingly.”

“Then what are you doing now?”

“Okay I am chasing after you now but it’s because I’m genuinely attracted to you y/n.”

You shook your head and turned around, facing him and his smirk.

“What will make you leave me alone.”

“Let me take you on a date now. It doesn’t have to be long but please.”

You looked at his facial expressions, despite that shit eating grin you could tell he was desperate.

“Fine. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

You met Cody outside, he was gonna be the one driving you.

“Ready pretty lady?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

He took your bags from you and helped you get in the car.

Atleast he was a gentleman.

The car ride was mostly silent, he would ask a question or two and you would give a single word answer.

When you guys got to the restaurant, it seemed to change.

It was like he dropped the fuck boy persona and was just a normal guy.

“What’s with this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just drop the persona to woo someone?”

“You know how it is, if I’m not that I’m no one there y/n.”

You shrugged.

“I get that, but seriously you choose that?”

“It was the best I could come up with.”

“I don’t believe that.”

You felt the hate you had slowly slip away.

Damn him.

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“It’s only because of the attitude you had. I didn’t like it.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms.

“I’ve got a chance now?”

“Thin ice”

“That’s better than in the river drowning.”

“You taking me home after this?”

“I can do more then that”

“Don’t push it Rhodes”

“I had to take my shot somewhere”

You shook your head and chuckled, watching the waiter as your food came out.

He wasn’t bad at all.

As he helped you out of the car at your house you gave him a small smile.

“Thanks for dinner Cody.”

“It’s nothing, sorry I annoyed the shit out of you at the show.”

You laughed.

“I think it’s okay now.”

You smiled bigger snd pulled him closer to you, pulling him down slightly and kissing him on his lips.

Surprisingly his lips were soft on yours, and he knew what he was doing.

He didn’t grab your waist, but instead held your face gently with one hand and your hand in the other.

You pulled back and kissed his cheek.

“We’re gonna have to do this again Cody, you gotta let me know though.”

He smiled from ear to ear, letting you walk to your door.

“I most definitely will.”

#wwe #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #fanfic #cody rhodes #wwe cody rhodes #the american nightmare #dashing Cody Rhodes

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frankenfossil · 2 months

Note

Oh! I nearly forgot, but can I ask the significance of this panel?

It comes directly after Dee explains that he can’t come and see her from the future whenever he wants. (Which is one of my favorite moments where Dee’s true eldritch horror leaks in to the story), so I assume it’s… sort of a metaphor? How Emily finds herself at the foot of something she realizes is much, much bigger than she contemplated before?

(Also, I just wanted to compliment you for this panel)

(The first time I saw it, I imagined Dee was showing her this on purpose, time traveling from sometime the same day to really show her what it would be like. An object lesson.

The second time I saw it, I started to wonder

Because Dee himself doesn’t really look aware of what is going on behind him.

And maybe, just maybe, this one moment in time has become the only moment that Dee allows himself to come back to to see Emily, the one moment where he can get lost in the crowd with every other time he came back to look. The one moment where he’s explaining why he can’t come back.

Just… Makes me sad, and I wanted to say thank you for that too, because I love these characters and the story they tell, the sweet and bitter.)

Oh!!!

(Quick test of my ability to find which chapter stuff happens in)

I love your reading of that Uluru panel!! I think I probably didn’t intend anything that deep with it; these time skip montage style chapters are pretty choppy and I’m usually trying to figure out a way to touch on all these brief scenes or moments that I don’t want to spend a whole chapter on for whatever reason, and arrange them in a way where the cuts aren’t too hideously abrupt. For visual reasons I try to contrast different locations and not put 2 dialogue heavy moments directly next to each other. Mood wise, I don’t really want to cut from something serious and angsty to something that’s a complete backflip on that. I also sometimes just feel like drawing a nice landscape and hope it achieves my aims on these fronts haha.

I think also here I was trying to move from that final sentence, “The present is more than enough”, to demonstrating them appreciating having that present together - being able to go do cool and enriching stuff, something not completely mundane but not completely fantastical either. (I mean... sightseeing within your own country is extremely normal, but going to Uluru from Melbourne... not a convenient day trip, since it’s 2000km; 25 hour solid driving, or you can fly in a few hours but I think you have to go via Sydney, so that makes it take at least twice as long I guess. Not that it's specified how long they're there for. I haven’t been myself but I’d love to one day...)

So, yeah!! More of a mechanical/compositional rationale than an intentional metaphor, but I think your reading makes complete sense and actually improves the page! (Sometimes I do intend visual metaphors... but sometimes they’re just happy accidents.)

And thanks for the compliment re the crowd of Dees!! I also love the moments I can lean into his eldritch qualities... they’re sadly few and far between but maybe that helps them be more surprising?? Definitely your first reading was what I intended, that he zigzagged back pretty quickly, probably even from within the conversation, but there is an inherent ambiguity to Dee’s time travelling where unless I take pains to spell it out, there really is no way to know when he’s come from. Even if he can be assumed to be taking every interaction chronologically, there’s no knowing how much time has passed for him between each visit. I don’t even know how to estimate how long his experience of time is, when he’s zigzagging back so densely all the time; even the number of living things on Earth any moment is an incomprehensibly mind-boggling number. That eldritch horror again!

Truth be told I hadn’t thought of him coming back to this moment and blending in with the crowd for the rest of the future ;_; but that’s so real... he could well be, the sad sack...

I had a different sillier thought from slightly misreading your question on first pass, which is that maybe he doesn’t originally know what’s going on behind him, but then later on as he’s just going about his business he goes “oh I know exactly how to punctuate that thing I said earlier!!!” and then does it as an afterthought. Oh to have the ability to add the things you wish you’d said to an earlier conversation 😂

#kind words #man i could ramble on about dee's time travel for so many words but i PROBABLY shouldn't #there's a page coming up (in chapter 54) where on one panel i have drawn dee multiple times #and for this ONE panel it's supposed to be showing time passing while he does stuff #but because he's a time traveller and every single other time i've ever drawn him multiple times in a panel it's been him doubling up #it's way less obvious a use of that device than it is when I do it with emily!!!#i have also commented on this on the alt text on that page #because i think it's fun and whatever i'll repeat myself i guess #ALSO. deciding when i can imply that dee has teleported off panel and when i feel it needs to be drawn explicitly... tricky!#for the panel above i decided i didn't need to draw it but it sure leaves that ambiguity #on a different page in chapter 54 i originally left it implied but then changed my mind and added it explicitly to the page #idk. ask me about which moment later if u remember and/or care to lol.#and the funny thing is i think there is an in universe version of this #where - in my head at least - dee can teleport and return with great subtlety and precision when he wants to #such that he could do it without people noticing unless they're watching very closely maybe #so he adds a bit of performativity to when he teleports so that emily always knows (or doesn't know that he can be sneaky)#BUT this will probably never come up unless i can either find a clear way to indicate it or for some reason Dee decides to mention it #so it will probably remain non-canon #i only consider the comic itself canon. i say all sorts of stuff outside the comic that i change my mind about later #plus death of the author and whatever

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live-the-fangirl-life · 1 year

Text

Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants

A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.

Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck.

“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.

He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.

She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.

She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.

Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.

It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.

“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.

“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.

Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”

Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”

A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

“Which portraits?”

“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”

“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.

Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.

He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”

“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.

He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”

“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”

“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”

“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”

Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”

The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –

Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.

Back to their beginning.

The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.

Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.

Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.

The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.

For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.

It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.

They learned how to adapt.

The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.

Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.

And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.

"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."

The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.

For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here.

He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.

He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.

But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.

She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.

He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.

Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.

Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.

And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.

Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.

As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.

She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.

“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”

Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.

A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.

And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”

Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.

As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”

At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.

*****

Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.

She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.

The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.

Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.

To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.

They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.

To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”

He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”

“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.

He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”

Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.

“I’m an old soul.”

He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”

Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.

Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”

“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.

Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.

“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.

A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”

“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”

“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.

“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”

Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.

So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.

“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.

Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”

Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”

Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.

“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.

“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”

Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.

“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”

Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”

Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”

Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”

Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.

“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.

The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.

“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”

Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”

“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.”

And it was.

And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.

Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –

“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.

“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.

Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.

“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”

The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.

“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.

“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”

The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

*****

Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.

He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.

Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.

“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”

When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”

Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering.

“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”

Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”

“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.

“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.

“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”

“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”

Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”

Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.

“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”

“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”

None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”

“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”

“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.

Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”

Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”

Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.

“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.

And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.

When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.

*****

The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.

The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.

Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.

The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.

Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.

As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.

It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.

“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”

“I think you give him too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”

Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”

Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”

“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves.

“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good.”

“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”

They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.

“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.

“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.

“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”

They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”

“The European one,” she elaborated.

He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”

“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”

“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

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

Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.

“Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”

*******

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