#The more I watch this show the happier I get | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 15 hours ago

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@zepskies

I'm not kidding this might be my favorite gif ever lol. BUT I am so excited to read the last chapter of this series!! I mean, I'm sad that it's coming to a close, but I'm hoping that in the future there might be a fic with a little Elijah (or a little Jude) running around. 😏

I love the little details about him and Benny pranking each other, but it really just made me sad because Dean left them 😭 But at the same time they are opening up with one another and sharing their life stories and I couldn't be happier.

“I will protect you,” she says. Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

Again I stan a strong woman and Mila is just so stinking badass that I love her so much. Also yes girl, PROTECT 👏🏻 YOUR👏🏻 MAN👏🏻

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be. He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

Love that you're referencing the honorable choice title here, and showing that Dean is a man of honor and that he did make a choice that maybe messed up his life, but he cared more about doing the right thing. And I think you did a great job of titling the series and the chapters in general. Each one corresponds beautifully to the themes in the chapters so you should be proud!

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

I know that something dramatic is about to happen and that I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I just love height difference so much😭. When a guy is bigger than his girl oh wow it sends me to the moon. I think it's so cute and goodness the cuddles must be so fun.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

Again, devastating moment, but... SHE SAID HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME! And the running her fingers through his hair?!?!?!?!

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly. Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown. “Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says. Her brows raise. “No?” “Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man."

I'm cackling. I love Mila so much. The sass, the teasing. Oh goodness they're so cute and I am so scared that there's going to be a last minute perilous situation and somebody is gonna die.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

Excuse me sir? SIR?! You know... he's right Mila. You should listen to your future husband.

Also him respecting her when she said that she doesn't have sex before marriage is just so HONORABLE AND WORTHY and why can't there be men that respectful all the time? Dean Winchester is really just ruining other men for me everywhere. 😭

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize… Her heart has already chosen.

Girl it's chosen correctly. No remorse. No regret. Please oh my word let them both live at the end of this fic. 🙏🏻

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

So... the face squishing is a family trait I see. But man, Dean standing there while a random lady just squishing his face while his eyes are wide in horror is so funny to me.

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

AWW YEAH IT WAS GOING THAT WAY! lol

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?” Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others. It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. “No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

This bit is so good. It's so true and honest and a little heart breaking, but it's such a wonderful thing for them to talk about, because Mila knows that he's thrown away his life to save hers. And it's so wonderful that he's able to give her that confirmation and reassurance that he doesn't regret the choice he made. Because it was the right choice, the -AHEM- Honorable Choice lol 😂

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection. “All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.”

Oh this chapter was so good my sweet friend! I'm a little sad to see that it's ending, but it was so wonderfully written and neither of them died. I was really scared about that 😅. AND it ended with a wedding (sort of?). Now little Elijah can run around the camp helping his mother and learn how to break in horses with his father. ❤️

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life.

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it.

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky.

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance.

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs.

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life.

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.”

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter!

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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heartedbysunoo · 19 hours ago

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INTERVIEW

HEESEUNG: “I feel like I’m at a place where I can excel at anything”

ENHYPEN ROMANCE: UNTOLD -daydream- comeback interview

2024.11.23

In his first “-note,” dated July 7, 2020—back when he was still a trainee—HEESEUNG took a look back at each of his lessons for the day, showing a serious thirst for improvement. Fast-forward to today, where the idol, having now achieved his long-held dream of becoming an artist, says he’s “at a place where” he “can do excel at anything”—a major transformation that includes going from a trainee anxious to debut to an artist performing with utmost confidence under stadium lights.

You’re celebrating the fourth anniversary of your debut. Have you ever rewatched those old “-note” videos you made, by any chance?

HEESEUNG: Ah… I get so embarrassed now that I can’t watch them all the way through. (laughs)

I remember in the “-note” you filmed the day ENHYPEN was formed, you talked about how you felt when you found out you would be debuting with your group. You said you “kind of felt sad inside, but I was emotionally really happy.”

HEESEUNG: That’s true. Why did I feel sad about it? Wow—I have no idea. (laughs) I guess I was anxious at the time and felt like it was really happening? I’d been keeping myself strictly disciplined for four years, and now that I was finally debuting, all those bottled-up emotions burst out of me. That’s probably why I said that.

I rewatched your first “-note,” and in it, you talked about where you had room for improvement while reflecting on the practice you did that day.

HEESEUNG: I was kind of anxious when we were filming I-LAND. Honestly, after years of almost nonstop prep for the debut, I was having a bit of a tough time. Even after the show ended and we debuted, I felt so impatient. I felt impatient about everything. Debuting wasn’t the end of it. My goal when I wanted to debut was just to become part of a group, but then, of course, once I accomplished that, something else had to come next. I looked around thinking, “What do I do now?” There were already so many people who are good at music and at performing. The first time I went to an awards ceremony and realized “these people are my competition,” it was scary and inevitably made me even more anxious and impatient. But now I feel like my own comfort is the most important thing. What hurts my pride is if I get nervous onstage. It feels like I’m bringing myself down if I get nervous.

In a “-note” from August, you said, “But to ENGENE who have seen me since I was 20, it must be very interesting… I feel like I’ve changed a lot from who I was then… I definitely feel happier as the years go by.” Is the fact that you don’t feel nervous anymore a part of that change?

HEESEUNG: I think it’s because it’s been about four years now. I try not to be impatient or feel nervous, and try to be relaxed at all times. I don’t even need to go out of my way to think about shaking out my nerves. I try not to even think about it—I just get on with it. I think clearing your mind and holding onto a bit of tension while you’re onstage is the best way to go. The same goes for everyday life. Here’s to easy, worry-free living. And to being open and just being comfortable doing things your way.

You seem much more comfortable expressing your emotions now.

HEESEUNG: I think I’ve become a little more human since back then. Nowadays, I just talk about however I’m feeling, which I find kind of funny. I actually feel like I need to tone it down a bit now. (laughs) But life’s taught me that there’s more upsides to expressing your emotions than downsides. When you’re open about your feelings, communication is a breeze. If I’m not clear about things, I end up regretting it later. I speak up even if it feels a little unpleasant at the moment, or try a different approach. It can be a hassle but it’s always better that way. So at this point, I feel like I’m at a place where I can excel at anything.

During the LIVE celebrating the fourth anniversary of the group, you reminisced about the I-LAND era with the others. I thought the words, “Don’t worry, guys, I’ll start, and make sure it works no matter what,” really cut to the pressure you felt throughout the show. Do you feel more relaxed within the group now?

HEESEUNG: I actually said that out of fear. I was a little scared at the time, and I wanted to do well. Now I don’t feel that in the slightest. When we go onstage, it’s like, “Oh, dopamine. This’ll be fun.” I’m the oldest of our Gen Z crew, after all. (laughs) We’ve got pretty good teamwork. We’re having some fun as we go. (laughs) Everyone does their own thing too, but we share the same goal, so it’s like we kind of come together? It’s really unique and fun like that. That’s when I realized I used to have a very rigid idea of what a team is before.

Your closing remarks at the WALK THE LINE concert in Goyang left a big impression: “Honestly, we’re human too, so we have our own share of tough times. But since each and every one of us is so kind and warmhearted, we don’t let it show, and work hard, and help each other out, and things that seemed impossible before became possible.” It seems like you tweaked your teamwork while getting ready for the tour.

HEESEUNG: Whew, that was 100% genuine. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anyone as pure and kindhearted as the members of our group. I’m 23 now, and you meet more and more people out in the world. But truly, the other members are so pure and such incredibly kindhearted people. I’m so grateful how they’re understanding even when I make occasional mistakes.

On the other hand, performing the fan dedication song “Highway 1009,” which you produced yourself, during the WALK THE LINE tour must have been a special experience for you.

HEESEUNG: Oh… I got emotional but tried really hard to hold back my tears. It absolutely filled my heart to the brim. Writing a single song is always an incredibly long process. From sitting alone in the studio and thinking, “Ah, what’ll I do…” and then having that, “Aha, here we go, okay!” feeling, to writing lines, recording vocals, getting approval, and directing, then hearing that melody booming out at a huge concert venue—it was so surreal. It made all the hard work feel so rewarding.

Between doing the FATE PLUS tour and starting the WALK THE LINE tour, in what ways do you feel you’ve grown from performing so much?

HEESEUNG: First there was all this anticipation for the new tour. During the stadium tour, I felt the importance of performing live yet again. I have a really good ear for when I wobble even slightly in pitch during live shows, so I worked through that with a lot of practice.

In the “-note” where you revealed the demo of “Highway 1009,” you said, “I think I was more afraid about working on music than I realized.” I was surprised to hear you say that. You sound very attentive when it comes to songwriting.

HEESEUNG: It’s comparable to cooking, where you get a little nervous when someone tries something you made. “How is it? Is it bad? Too salty? Too sweet?” Kind of like that. But if they tell you something tastes off, then of course I have to fix it—because, whether objectively or subjectively speaking, something’s not right. That was a decent analogy, wasn’t it? (laughs)

You talked about making your own songs in a previous Weverse Magazine interview, and you called yourself “super stubborn.” You seem very open to feedback, though.

HEESEUNG: I mean, it’s not a big deal to change something. (laughs) I have my stubborn moments, but when I’m writing a song, I tend to be super receptive to feedback.

I understand you also prepared meticulously for the making of ROMANCE: UNTOLD -daydream-.

HEESEUNG: For the single “No Doubt,” the group talked about which musical eras it evokes and how it sounds like older R&B. We also checked out a lot of different music and videos of live performances. We’ve been having lots of meetings on the direction our music should ultimately take as well—whether that means taking a somewhat different approach in terms of genre, wanting to have more hip hop vibes, or something else—but regardless, we have to engage in friendly competition with each other. I think you have to spur each other on when you’re making music.

How was it practicing for “No Doubt” after all that discussion? You’re the one who starts the song off, right?

HEESEUNG: I liked it. (laughs) When I first heard the song, it felt like something I knew I could already do, but something that would be fairly new for the group. The choreography’s way more intense than it looks, too—so much so that it beefed up my legs, even though I don’t work out much. So now I have some muscle in my legs. (laughs) The part in the chorus where we dance with our hands in our back pockets is the highlight of the choreo, and I love that part. It felt like the highlight to me, even when we were shooting the music video.

ROMANCE: UNTOLD, and ROMANCE: UNTOLD -daydream- after it, revolve around a highly jealous, very lonely vampire boyfriend. Is it similar to your own definition of love?

HEESEUNG: I don’t think of jealousy as love. (laughs) Love is… I don’t know. But I don’t think jealousy is it. That’s just something that arises from feeling insecure.

You said you don’t know much about romance, yet ENHYPEN sings about romantic vampires.

HEESEUNG: Good point. I guess the somewhat idealistic parts of our song lyrics have become a good example for me to follow. (laughs)

Did HEE-roducer make another appearance when you were directing and giving ideas to the other members during the recording sessions for ROMANCE: UNTOLD -daydream-?

HEESEUNG: It never quite reached HEE-roducer levels (laughs) but I did give some feedback on little things here and there during dance rehearsal this time around. Oh—but it’s not like I’m a dance drill sergeant or anything. That would be JUNGWON. (laughs)

You talked in that previous interview about the other ENHYPEN members’ strengths from the perspective of HEE-roducer. What do you consider to be your own strengths?

HEESEUNG: For me… I think my strength is doing things without anyone having to tell me to—trying out creative, new things on my own. And if I’m being honest, I think I’m pretty well-rounded. (laughs)

Is that how you got started with producing—by trying new things?

HEESEUNG: It was to understand myself better. I felt like I wanted to get to know myself. There’s still things about me that I thought I knew but actually don’t, and I think I can uncover those things through music. I want to release my own mixtape and perform it onstage. Oh, and actually, I recently did something I’ve been wanting to do! It was just a cover, but it was part of my dream to perform onstage solo. I covered “Can’t Feel My Face” by The Weeknd at Music Bank in Madrid.

You always struck me as someone who only puts something out into the world when you feel it’s completely ready, but interestingly, during a Weverse LIVE, you said that the performance “was more fun because I didn't really practice before going.”

HEESEUNG: It was almost like a freestyle performance, but it was fun—really fun. Hearing 30,000 people there all cheering just for me was… fun. (laughs)

So you weren’t nervous then, either?

HEESEUNG: For that show? Of course I was nervous. (laughs) But it’s one thing to not want that feeling and another thing to just not feel it. (laughs) I was warming up my voice and practicing my moves until 10 seconds before I went on, but as soon as I got up there, I thought, “Wow, this is gonna be crazy fun,” and all that nervousness turned into excitement.

What motivates you to work like that?

HEESEUNG: How I felt about my dream when I was younger, I guess?

How does it feel now that you’re living your childhood dream?

HEESEUNG: It feels unreal. I didn’t expect to reach this point in my life so soon. It was just four or five years ago that I was worried and skeptical, like, “Can I really do this?” But now I can hardly remember those days of self-doubt because I’m living the dream.

So what would you like to accomplish together with ENHYPEN?

HEESEUNG: My dream with ENHYPEN is to be even better. It’s not about the numbers—it’s about being able to express more through our performances and through our music, and receiving recognition for it. There are certain things in this industry that are set in stone, and I want to break through that. I said at the WALK THE LINE concert in Goyang that I felt like I needed to become a grown-up. Basically, with that, I was signaling that I could show a different side of myself than I used to. I buried my feelings deep down when I was a trainee, and in the same way, I had a bottled up thirst in a musical sense, too. So perhaps it was me hinting that I’m going to change a bit now? Come to think of it, it sounds a bit cringey for someone who isn’t [a hero like] Jeon Woo-chi. (laughs)

#kpop #enhypen #weverse #interview #kpop enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung enhypen #이희승

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z3r0b1tch35 · 2 days ago

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It snowed a little here so I’m coming here with my little/cg hcs with snow!

-Hashira-

Gyomei:

Loves bundling up with scarfs and beanies and fuzzy socks, hates trying to walk. He’s adapted to his blindness over the years, but ice and the cold ground are hard to tell the difference. Definitely falls a lot, and the tears make his face very cold. Stresses him out as a cg because he isn’t able to know where his littles are as easy.

Tengen:

Hates it. Every single piece of winter he hates. He much prefers sitting inside cuddling his partners while drinking hot coffee by the fire place. Him and his partners have a weighted blanket for their bed just for this occasion. He is definitely not a happy flip whenever snow is involved.

Kanae:

She loves it, I don’t think there’s a stronger word to show how excited she gets for the winter months. She loved winter decorations, specifically the deer, she loves making hot chocolate, and making snowmen. She doesn’t need to worry about her littles too much as they stay mostly in her line of sight.

Obanai:

There isn’t a word to explain how much he hates winter. He loathes the snow. He’s already as cold as a reptile during the summer, the winter is just added salt to the wound. Every time he’s outside he’s the grumpiest toddler ever, he’s got three layers minimum and is just overall upset about the ordeal.

Giyuu:

He’s pretty “eh” about snow. He does like watching it melt in his hands though. Watching snowfall is his favorite activity. Seriously, he would just sit at the window and watch snow accumulate on the ground. When he’s little he likes just standing and watching others play in the ice.

Sanemi:

Adores it. He loves snowball fights, and it’s even better because he can get away with it. Loves watching people slip and fall, doesn’t love it when he’s the one to slip. As a cg he enjoys it simply because kids falling humors him, though he gets cold easy.

Kyojuro:

Due to his heightened natural body heat, he adores the cold. Fall and winter are his favorites because spring and summer gets him sweating. He hates having to wear gloves though, always putting up a fight. Little and big him get very excited when it snows, he loves making snow castles but he has to be fought into clothes.

Mitsuri:

Also due to heightened body temperature, she loves the snow. She does get a bit upset not getting to wear her normal skirts, but she loves her hakama pants that Kyojuro got her. Little her likes making snow pops, specifically the strawberry flavor ones.

Shinobu:

Hates it. Hates it all. She hates the decorations, hates the cold, hates the warm drinks. Loathes winter in its entirety. Hates having to clean up the wet floor from peoples shoes. Her as a cg has her getting much more snappy with littles.

Muichiro:

The most neutral guy in the world. He doesn’t care for seasons and doesn’t have a favorite. He doesn’t like having to wait for his hair to fully dry before stepping outside, that’s frustrates him. When he’s little he’s a bit happier about it, but his fingers get numb and he gets upset again.

-Kamaboka Squad-

Genya:

Very similar to Sanemi, he adores snow ball fights. He never starts them, but he does enjoy participating. His nose gets cold and red fast and so his cg (typically Gyomei) carries around tissues at all times. When he’s little he gets very eager to go outside and tries to get his clothes on as fast and physically possible.

Zenitsu:

This isn’t even a headcanon, he canonly hates the cold and snow and anything winter lmao. When he’s little it’s much much worse, he’s clinging to his cg and wears earmuffs the entire time he’s outside. The cold hurts his ears and hands and he lets everyone under the sun know about it. Has his pacifier in the entire time

Kanao:

She enjoys making snow angels, but having to get the frost out of her hair is a pain. She once cried because she lost her butterfly teether in the snow and couldn’t find it for over thirty minutes. When she’s little she doesn’t like straying far away from Kanae, so she waddles in the snow around her.

Aoi:

The biggest snow lover behind Kanae. She loves waddling around and helping with the decorations. If Kanae ever tells her she doesn’t need help she gets so sad. She doesn’t like snow ball fights because her hair always gets wet. She makes hot dark chocolate.

Tanjiro:

The hottest temperature naturally, they’ve learned to allow him a light jacket and he’s okay. The snow melts in his hands extremely fast, so snow ball fights are boring to him; he does enjoy making snowmen because of this though, the snow melts into compact. He gave a snowman his teether and got upset when Kyojuro took it away and cleaned it.

Inosuke:

Starts a snowball fight whenever he’s outside. He hates when he forced into heavy thick clothes because he can’t sense things as well, forgetting that his cgs have him protected. Constantly wandering off following animal tracks until a cg has to go and get him. Eats all the carrots on the snowmen, makes Tanjiro very upset.

Nezuko:

Similar to Tanjiro, her body is very hot so she only needs a jacket and pants. She loves helping Tanjiro in whatever he is doing. But when she is by herself, she loves finding hidden acorns and putting them in her pockets. Also finding little rocks that have surfaced near the river bend. Her pockets are filled by the time she’s picked up to go inside. Her paci falls all the time and she secretly just picks it up, she gets sick by the next day.

Senjuro:

He is identical to his brother in the fact that he’s much hotter than a typical person. He doesn’t mind the warmer seasons because he prefers staying inside, but it’s nice taking a walk and not getting home drenched. When he’s little he wants to only be outside in the snow like a little husky, even hollering like one when dragged back inside.

Kiyo:

She sits on the porch painting her, or the others, nails because the cold makes them dry in a neat pattern. She loves wearing her skirt even though you can see the goosebumps. Her as a babysitter consists of her just running around with her older sisters.

Sumi:

She is doing all the littles hair, Nezuko adores her. She is watching over the littles taking a break inside. She isn’t too keen on the cold, but the decorations are very nice to put up. She also has fixed up some scraps from littles that fell.

Naho:

Unlike her sisters, she hates the snow similar to Shinobu. She gets mad because her face gets numb and her teeth hurt under cold winds. She is also inside but she’s cooking food or cleaning the laundry so she doesn’t have to worry about mopping the snow off the ground. She is very opinionated on snow, she wishes it didn’t exist.

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