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acourtofquestions · 3 months ago

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Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

#Chapter 41 #Kingdom of Ash #Sarah J. Maas #Aelin Galathynius #Rowan Whitethorn #Rowaelin #soulmates #mates #spoilers and notes in tags cause this chapter and also spoilers in post cause this chapter first read react with me read along #Rowaelin chapters scenes moments quotes #they want to make it possible bring that love to light #am I allowed to cry? — Again the word endured — finally the dream — the sand she still sees — he’s magic being steady — them talking time #again if Maeve could convince Rowan Lyria was his mate how bad was it when she convinced Aelin her actual mate was dead… this hurts me…#the fact Aelin stopped being useful because it destroyed her beyond belief but the dreams the dreams almost got her because its all she wan #again then both feeling sorry and the other not realizing and then consent and then comfort and love & I just wanted it2be U how could I no #I know you are tired Fireheart (ALL THE TROPES IN ONE LINE… UGH I MISSED THIS SHIP)#together. one soul in two bodies. their endgame like literally they are. I’d choose you too. even the apologies that were needed just heali #what it might have once been — together — not alone — not returning alone — the king and queen of Terrasen — I need u more — 2 whatever end #Aelin watched the boat until it disappeared trying not to stare too long at the clean unstained sand beneath her boots #always north — she didn’t care she just wanted far away — who knew — what she knew-the letters she sent-Valg-dark blood that had turned red #If it had been another dreamscape or some fragment that had blended into the very real memory of Connall's death. — always a plab&theory #all these things to deal with later-she’d rebuild all she had been-her match helper mirror-matched his piercing stare with her own-wait/res #A far cry from a queen's chamber or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin. — how far we’ve come-she had ENDURED she can do it #I'm your mate she said needing to voice it. And you are mine. — Lyria. — I do know. and?&what do you wish me to say?-this was perfect #If what? If you wish it wasn't so. His brows narrowed. Why would I ever wish that? — Aelin. she looked at him at the pain in his words #the way it's changed since Mistward... and grown... even in names like Whitethorn Galathynius together — the brain thoughts are back —#The kiss was gentle-light. Letting her decide how to guide it. So she did. — he’d do it all night if that was what’s he wished #Together we'll find a way their mingling breaths the crashing sea seemed to echo. Together. — mountains and oceans #Might’ve been before-thought snapped-the bond- u r my mate&I am urs-the world might have been burning for all she cared all he cared too #Together they would face this together they would find a way. — claiming him as he claimed her — a scar a marker a tattoo

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scorpieuns · 4 months ago

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KISS ME MORE | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: freshman year is just around the corner, and you still haven’t had your first kiss, so who better to ask for help than your best friend?

word count: 3.2k

MINORS DNI!!

warnings (18+): smut. fluff (just a smidge). kissing. swearing. oral (f. receiving). fingering (f. recieving).

A/N: this was literally just an excuse to write the ‘teach me’ trope im currently obsessed with lmfao. decided to return with another short fic while a longer one is currently in the works!

Your saturday was lazily drawing to a close, the amber light of the late afternoon bathing your room in a rich, golden hue as it filtered through the sheer curtains. Sunbeams danced across the floor, casting long, dappled shadows that shifted gently in time with the breeze from your fan, its low hum blending with the quiet outside. The heat of the day still lingered, but your room felt cool—a refuge from the summer heat beyond the window.

You and Sunghoon spent another day in the slow, unhurried rhythm of summer break. You had wandered through quaint little shops in town, indulging in some ice cream from your favourite parlour—before ending the day by hanging back at your place.

Soft, flickering light from the television illuminated the room, casting faint shadows over the cozy disarray of blankets and pillows on your bed.

The movie playing was one of your favourites—a classic romance that you knew almost every line to. Your gaze was fixed on the screen, eyes wide and captivated, but Sunghoon seemed content to only half-watch. His attention was mostly absorbed in a book he had got from one the thrift shops you’d visited a while ago, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he read quietly.

Sunghoon lay sprawled beside you, completely at ease, the quiet shuffling of his turning pages blending in with the murmur of the movie’s dialogue as the two of you comfortably sat in silence.

Every now and then, Sunghoon would glance up from his book, watching you for a moment with a fond, almost amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He silently chuckled at how deeply you were invested in the story, even though he knew you had seen it more times than you could count.

As the movie played on, the flickering shots of the couple lost in passionate kisses filled the screen, but your mind was elsewhere. Each romantic scene tugged at a part of you, stirring feelings of uncertainty that you tried to brush away.

The effortless intimacy the characters exchanged seemed so foreign and so far removed from your own experiences. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you shifted slightly on the bed, that weird feeling in your chest only returning.

Fall was approaching, and the thought of starting college without ever having kissed had been gnawing at you. You were always the one admired from a distance—some guys flirted but that was all they did. The real experiences, the ones you saw in movies and tv shows still remained an elusive mystery.

It felt like you were missing some crucial part of your youth, something that was supposed to happen naturally, yet it hadn’t.

In the locker room, when your friends would share their stories about their latest flings or kisses, you’d smile, laugh along, but inside you’d cringe, hoping no one asked about your own love life. It was your secret, the thing that made you feel out of place despite how perfect you seemed to everyone else.

Then, there was Sunghoon.

You glanced at him, your best friend, lying beside you with a cute focused expression etched into his features. He didn’t talk much about his romantic escapades, but you’d heard enough to know he wasn’t inexperienced.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of faint hickeys on his neck or the way girls would glance at him. It left you with a strange feeling, one you couldn’t quite name…was it jealousy? Insecurity? Maybe both. You felt your face heat up, embarrassed by how much it bothered you.

As another kiss scene plays out on the screen, your gaze flickers back to the couple. You bit your lip, the pang of longing growing sharper. What did it feel like? To be kissed—or to have someone look at you like you were their whole world, if only for a second?

The thought of entering college without knowing something so simple yet so intimate made you feel…painfully awkward.

You tried to focus on the movie, but the thoughts kept circling back, louder and louder. The movie no longer held your interest, and the weight of your unspoken feelings became too much.

Unable to shake the feeling, you sat up as your mind ran on impulsivity. The movie played on, but you no longer cared about the plot or the characters. All you could think about was the current problem you had and the one person who would listen to you.

You shifted on the bed, turning to him. “Sunghoon." you murmured, your voice softer than usual.

He responded with a low, distracted hum, barely lifting his gaze. One hand rested on his chin, finger grazing his bottom lip in a way that drew attention to the curve of his mouth, while his eyes flicked over the pages with slow, deliberate focus.

"How does…kissing feel?"

That got his attention. Sunghoon’s eyes snapped up from the book, the words clearly catching him off guard. He pushed his glasses up with one hand, studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “What are you on about now?”

You cringed at how juvenile your question sounded now, already hesitating, “I…” your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment, “I haven’t…kissed anyone before. And with college coming up, I just feel…I don’t know…insecure.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Wait, you’ve never kissed anyone?”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Mr. Midfielder. I’m not like you, alright? It’s not like I’ve had tons of people drooling over me.”

A soft laugh escaped him as he sat up, expression softening. “No (Y/N), it’s just hard to believe.” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re… like, insanely pretty.”

Sunghoon’s words sent a little flutter in your stomach—but you brushed it off, chalking it up to him just being nice.

“Of course, you would say that,” you muttered, playfully shoving his shoulder.

“I’m serious,” Sunghoon insisted lightly, catching your wrist, gently lowering your hand. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

There was something in the way he looked at you making your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You tore your gaze away, suddenly feeling exposed under the weight of his attention. “This is stupid,” you mumbled with a wry laugh, already regretting bringing it up.

But Sunghoon wasn’t letting it go. He muttered your name softly, his voice coaxing you to meet his eyes again. He reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up until your gaze locked with his once more.

His touch was soft, barely there, but it made your cheeks warm. “It’s not stupid,” he murmured, his eyes searching for yours. “It’s okay to be new to things. Everyone is at some point.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, staring at the comforter as if the intricate embroidery held the answers to everything swirling in your head.

Sunghoon watched you intently, his heart aching at the sight of your lips forming a soft pout and your expression so full of uncertainty. How was it possible that you had never been kissed?

He couldn't understand it, and yet, the thought of you being with someone else, experiencing that first kiss with someone who didn’t know you like he did—it twisted something in his chest.

Sunghoon would kiss you in a heartbeat if given the chance, but after ages of trying to ignore his feelings—of pushing aside how much he actually wanted you, he wasn’t sure he could handle it without letting everything else spill out.

His hand was still holding yours, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over your skin, and for a moment, the touch seemed to blur the lines of just simple camaraderie. The warmth of it messed with your thoughts, and before you could second-guess yourself, the words tumbled out.

“Well, you’ve done it before, right? You could, I don’t know… teach me.”

“What?” Sunghoon froze, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes wide with surprise. His voice dropped an octave,“you’re asking me to… kiss you?”

You nodded, scooting just a little closer, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his body against yours. “Come on, Hoon. We’re best friends. It’s not like it would… mean anything.”

Even as you said it, you couldn’t really believe the words yourself. There was an undercurrent, a dull gut feeling, that told you it wouldn’t feel like practice.

To you, maybe. The thought tore through Sunghoon’s mind.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his bangs as he tried to think. For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely flustered, “I don’t know, (Y/N).”

His voice was thick as he swallowed, cheeks slowly turning pink. “That’s not exactly something you just… teach.”

“It’s just a kiss. I just wanna know what I’m doing when I eventually have to kiss someone for real.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flickered, his eyes betraying more than he wanted to show. For a split second, his eyes darted to your glossed lips, his breath hitching as he quickly looked away.

He pushed his glasses up again, licking his lips as he huffed. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Why?” You asked, the plea in your voice betraying your own feelings. “It’s just one kiss, Hoon.”

Right?

You tried to keep it light, casual, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just a small favour between friends. But inside, your heart hammered against your chest, your skin felt flushed, and the air between you both had clearly shifted.

The way Sunghoon was looking at you now, though, like he was really considering it—like he was seeing you in a way he’d never let himself see before—it was almost too much.

“Are you… sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loud would shatter the moment.

Your fingers brushed against his knee, lingering for just a second longer, “I mean, it would just be practice.” You stated, but underneath it all, your heart skipped a beat, a buzz coursing through your veins as you looked back at him.

Sunghoon’s resolve crumbled at the feeling of your hand on his knee. How could he say no to you when you looked at him like that—those wide, pleading eyes making it impossible to refuse?

He swallowed hard, his breath shaky. “Just… a practice thing,” he muttered, his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips, fighting the gravitational pull on them.

“Yeah,” You muttered quietly, reaching up to remove the wire rimmed glasses from his face and placing them on your bedside table before glancing back at him.

Sunghoon’s hand moved up, threading through your hair before gently brushing it away from your face, his touch slow, deliberate.

His thumb traced the edge of your cheek, pausing to brush against your bottom lip in a way that sent a shiver through you. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, but it ignited something deep inside you, making your breath hitch.

Your stomach fluttered as you met his intense gaze, his dark eyes trained on your lips. He leaned in closer, close enough that you could feel his breath fanning lightly over your skin, teasing, heightening the anticipation.

Sunghoon’s lips hovered over yours, just barely ghosting against them, brushing so softly that it made you ache for more.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips gently against his. The kiss started soft, tentative, your body hyper-aware of every detail—the warmth of his breath, the way his lips responded immediately, moulding into yours with an eagerness that surprised you.

Oh.

You pulled away for the briefest moment, eyes flickering down to his lips, your heart pounding through your ears. Without a second thought, you leaned in again, this time a lot bolder, your hand finding the side of his face.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. He kissed back within a heartbeat, a soft sigh escaping his lips that sent a rush of warmth to the pit of your stomach. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you against his chest, the space between you vanishing as your bodies pressed together.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, the soft strands curling around your fingertips as you tugged on them softly, his soft groans between kisses making your pulse race.

Sunghoon’s lips were firmer this time, more needier with every kiss, sending a rush of heat through your body as his grip on your waist tightened.

You softly fell back into the bed as he hovered over you, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before you parted your lips a little more, a low groan rumbling through his chest as he licked into your mouth.

Your hands slowly drifted down Sunghoon’s body, slipping beneath the thin fabric of his shirt to trace the contours of his torso, his breathy moans travelling straight to your core.

“Fuck.” He rasped, pulling away, “maybe we should stop.” Sunghoon’s eyes were glazed over, lips were swollen and tainted with your lip gloss, “I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself (Y/N).”

“Then don’t.” You rushed, breathless and wasting no time kissing him again, an unmistakable moan leaving Sunghoon’s chest as he kissed back desperately.

He pulled away—already missing the feeling of his lips on yours before they moved to your jaw, trailing soft sloppy kisses that travelled down to your neck, the feathery feeling creating a dull ache between your thighs.

Your sighs of pleasure almost bordered on moans as he gently sucked your delicate skin—pink and purple marks blooming on your skin, recklessly marking you from your neck to your collarbone.

Sunghoon’s hand drifted over the small of your back, sliding over to find their place on your ass squeezing the soft flesh with a lewd groan—an involuntary moan slipping past your lips at the feeling, tugging his hair.

Everything had your mind spiralling. Sunghoon’s lips were on your neck, his hand roaming every inch of your body.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want more—craved more.

He trailed wet kisses along your chest, lifting your shirt to press a few more along your stomach, revelling in the way you leaned into his touch, your soft whines and sighs driving him up the wall.

You admired the way Sunghoon looked when he glanced up at you with his eyes, weaving your fingers through his already dishevelled hair, moving to his face and caressing his rosy cheeks.

Sunghoon’s fingers finally met the waistband of your shorts, lifting your hips up as quickly pulling the layer of clothing away, “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He hissed, running his hands up and down your thighs.

His other hand brushed over your underwear, groaning at the sight. His finger traced over your wetness on the silky fabric, and you leaned into his touch, with the most beautiful moan he’d ever heard.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet.” Sunghoon groans as his thumb taps at your clothed clit, clenching around nothing at the mention of the pet name he’d just given you.

He kissed your thigh, hooking his finger into your underwear and sliding the damp pink fabric down your legs, almost moaning at the sight of your dripping cunt.

Sunghoon lifts your leg and holds it over his shoulder, swiping his tongue over his thumb before meeting your clit and your head falls back, “Hoon, fuck.” You moaned, grabbing at your sheets.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Sunghoon says softly, and you nod—watching him dip below your thighs, lips move to your clit and sucking on it gently.

You never fathomed anything would feel this good. Sure, you’d touched yourself a couple of times, but nothing could beat the feeling being eaten out.

You cry, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his tongue dipping into your folds, letting his thumb swirl around your bundle of nerves while his tongue enters your core, moaning into your entrance.

The vibrations from his moans sent shockwaves up your spine, head tipping back in from the sensation with a broken cry, legs attempting to fly shut but he pushed them apart with a sound of disapproval.

His tongue swiped upwards, and his eyes fluttered closed at the taste of your arousal, reveling in the insanely beautiful moans that tumbled from your lips.

Your hands weaved into his hair, tugging the soft strands as you shamelessly bucked into his mouth with broken whimpers.

Sunghooon held you firmly against the sheets to stop you from squirming, unable to stay still from the feeling of his nose causing friction on your clit as he lapped at your pussy.

Your eyes peer over at him and the pornographic sight of him buried between your thighs makes your cheeks burn. When his hand moves from your thigh you don't think much of it, until you feel his fingers circle your entrance.

Sunghoon pulls away from you, just in time to watch your plump lips fall open when he easily slides his fingers into your dripping core.

“You have know idea how good you look baby.” He panted, plump lips covered in your arousal biting his lip at sight in front him, completely enamored by your fucked out expressions.

Sunghoon’s fingers curl inside of you and they brush over your sweet spot, your mouth opening in a broken moan.

“F-feels so good, Hoon” you mewl breathlessly, grabbing his free arm as you bucked into his fingers, pumping them into you at a perfect speed.

You cheeks flushed furiously at the sounds of his fingers fucking your sopping wet core, broken raspy moans leaving your chest as his lips pressed kisses to your overstimulated clit—your mind a scrambled mess.

All you could think about was the pleasure that was currently surging throughout your entire body, making your toes curl and your head dizzy. A few whines and broken moans was enough to tell Sunghoon you were close, furiously clenching around his fingers as you begged him not to stop.

“That’s it baby, come for me.” He coaxed, his voice raspy and breathy, moaning at the sight of his fingers easily slipping in and out of you.

Your body jerked forward and your hand flew to his arm, blunt nails digging into his skin as you let out a whimper, back arching as his name tumbled past your lips in high pitched moans.

You were almost embarrassed by how fast Sunghoon made you come, mind clouded and hazy as he continued pumping his fingers, your walls clenching around his digits as he fucked out your high.

He pulled away shortly after, fingers slipping out of your entrance and placing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

You watched the messy haired brunette suck his fingers into his mouth, eyes closed and moaning at the taste of you—before you leaned over, softly grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him to your mouth for a kiss, lightly tasting yourself on his tongue.

"So we both agree that this wasn't just practice, right?" He mutters against your lips and you laugh, still dazed and high from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Yeah, I don't think I wanna do this with anyone else. You're my only option, Park." His smile grows and he pecks your lips again.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #best friends #lovers #kpop smut #smut

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theetherealbloom · 10 days ago

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You Are In Love, True Love

Summary: A lasting love with Pedro Pascal.

Or… you and Pedro get engaged.

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Proposal, Engagement, Fireworks, Loud Sounds, Sparklers, PDA, Fruits, Instagram Posts and Comments,

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: WELL— um, hi! Happy New Year, my loves! I’d like to start off by saying thank you all so much for supporting me throughout this year, and to all the new followers and old ones, just know I appreciate literally each and every single one of you. Lastly, huge shoutout to @mrspascalsworld for coming up with this idea and to the 🌼!anon request.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift, You Are In Love (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift

← Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST |

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — DAY

You hummed softly under your breath, the tune indistinct but soothing as your hands folded the last of Pedro’s shirts. You carefully smoothed out the fabric, placing it into his suitcase with meticulous care. His cologne, a comforting blend of cedar and spice, lingered faintly in the air around you.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Pedro’s voice broke through the quiet, warm and tinged with amusement.

You turned, finding him leaning casually against the doorway, his arms crossed and an endearing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat. Dressed in a soft cotton t-shirt and worn jeans, his hair slightly tousled, he looked effortlessly handsome.

“Someone has to make sure you look presentable for tonight,” you teased, holding up a crisp white shirt. “Can’t have you showing up to a New Year’s Eve party looking like you’ve been wrestling stray dogs.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, feigning offense as he stepped closer. “Is this just a clever way of saying I’m hopeless without you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “If the shoe fits…”

Pedro chuckled, his laughter low and rich as he reached for you. He didn’t touch you, not immediately. Instead, he watched you, his gaze softening in a way that made your chest tighten.

“What?” you asked, a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.

“Nothing,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “Just… you. Like this. It’s perfect.”

“Oh, stop,” you said, rolling your eyes to mask the heat creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me while I’m trying to fold your underwear.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room like sunlight. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.” But even as he said it, his hands found your waist, pulling you gently toward him. “For now.”

You let yourself be drawn into his orbit, your arms instinctively looping around his neck. His touch was warm, grounding. “What’s gotten into you today?” you asked softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

“Nothing,” he said, though the slight tension in his voice betrayed him. His gaze dropped for a moment before meeting yours again, and he offered a small, crooked smile. “Just thinking about… everything. Projects, the future. It’s a lot.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his scruff. “You’re going to be amazing, Pedro. You always are.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

You nodded firmly. “I know so. And you don’t have to do it alone, okay? I’m here. Always.” You held up your pinky. “Promise.”

Pedro’s lips twitched into a genuine smile as he linked his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

Then he kissed you, slow and deliberate, as if to seal the vow. The world outside seemed to blur, leaving only the two of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I would do this every day if I could,” he murmured, his voice a soft confession.

“You can,” you replied, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest as you swayed gently to an imaginary tune. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Pedro’s grip tightened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw something unspoken in his eyes. But before you could ask, he leaned in to kiss you again, and whatever it was melted away into the warmth of his embrace.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — AFTERNOON

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer white curtains of the open-air restaurant at Hotel Esencia, casting a golden glow over everything it touched. The gentle hum of the ocean in the background, paired with the soft tinkling of glasses and plates, created a tranquil yet vibrant atmosphere. The restaurant’s lush greenery blended seamlessly with the warm tones of the terracotta floor and wooden furnishings.

You sat at a circular table with Pedro, Omar, Franklin, and Lauren, the sound of their laughter mixing with the gentle rustling of the palm trees outside. Pedro sat beside you, one arm draped casually over the back of your chair. His fingers occasionally brushed your shoulder in soft, fleeting touches as he engaged in a lively debate with Omar about the best way to cut a mango.

“I’m telling you,” Pedro said, gesturing emphatically with his free hand, “the best way is to slice it like a hedgehog and then flip it out.”

Omar snorted. “That’s beginner-level mango cutting. You gotta peel it and slice it thin, man. That’s the pro way.”

Lauren leaned in, sipping her drink. “Why are we even debating this? The hotel staff cut it perfectly for us. Just eat it!”

Pedro turned to you, a wide grin spreading across his face. “What do you think, cariño? Hedgehog or pro slices?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Honestly? I think you both just like the sound of your own voices.”

The table erupted into laughter, and Pedro, ever the showman, pretended to be deeply offended. “Traitor,” he teased, leaning closer to you.

As the conversation continued, Pedro reached for a small plate of fruit in the center of the table. He speared a slice of mango with a fork and held it out to you. “Here,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Taste this and tell me I’m right.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but leaned in, letting him feed you the fruit. The sweet, tangy flavor exploded on your tongue, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” you admitted, licking your lips. “That’s really good.”

Pedro’s face lit up with triumph. “See? Hedgehog for the win!”

“Does the mango really matter, or are you just using this as an excuse to feed her?” Franklin teased from across the table, his eyebrow raised in mock suspicion.

Pedro didn’t miss a beat. “A little of both,” he admitted, squeezing your hand under the table.

You felt your cheeks warm, and Lauren sighed dramatically. “You two are so gross. Like, cute-gross. But still gross.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, laughing as you leaned against Pedro’s shoulder. “We’re not that bad.”

“Yes, you are,” Omar interjected, pointing at you with his fork. “The way you two look at each other? It’s like a rom-com in real life. I’m waiting for the dramatic love confession during a thunderstorm any day now.”

Pedro chuckled, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “Sorry to disappoint, but I save my dramatic love confessions for sunny beaches and candlelit dinners.”

“Of course you do,” Franklin said dryly.

The banter continued as plates were passed around and stories were exchanged. At one point, Pedro leaned closer to you, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke softly. “You look beautiful today, by the way. I don’t think I’ve told you yet.”

You turned to him, your smile softening. “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself, you know.”

His grin widened, and he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll take it.”

As the lunch wound down, Pedro took another piece of fruit and held it to your lips, his expression playful. “Last one?”

You bit into it, laughing as he exaggerated a swoon. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.

“And you love it,” he replied confidently, his eyes sparkling.

Omar groaned. “Seriously, can someone separate these two before I die from secondhand sweetness?”

Lauren raised her glass. “Here’s to our disgustingly in-love friends. May their PDA always remind us how single we are.”

The table burst into laughter, and you felt Pedro’s hand tighten around yours, grounding you in the midst of the playful chaos.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice just for you. “I’ll make it even worse later.”

You nudged him gently with your elbow, unable to hide your grin. “I’m holding you to that.”

With the ocean breeze swirling around you and Pedro’s warmth beside you, the moment felt like a scene from one of your favorite romance novels—perfectly ordinary and yet entirely magical.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — EVENING

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing by the time you and Pedro arrived. The beach was transformed into a luminous paradise. Fairy lights strung between swaying palm trees bathed everything in a warm, golden glow. Lanterns floated lazily in the night sky, their soft flickers mirrored on the rippling waves. The mingling sounds of music, laughter, and the gentle crash of the ocean created a magical atmosphere that felt otherworldly yet comforting.

Pedro walked beside you, his hand firmly gripping yours, a quiet, grounding presence amid the bustle of the party. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, a wordless reassurance that seemed to say, I’m here, and I’m not letting go.

You greeted friends with smiles and exchanged well-wishes for the new year. Omar cracked jokes that had everyone in your group doubling over in laughter. Franklin and Lauren danced barefoot on the sand, spinning and twirling under the fairy lights. Pedro chuckled softly, pulling you closer to his side as you watched the others, your heart swelling at the sight of such joy.

At one point, Pedro leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I have a surprise for you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Oh? What kind of surprise?”

He grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his eyes. “You’ll see. Come with me.”

With a quick goodbye to your friends, Pedro led you away from the crowd. You followed him down a narrow path lined with flickering candles in glass jars. The sound of the party faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore. Each step seemed to draw you further into an intimate bubble, a world that consisted only of you and Pedro.

When you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks. A secluded section of the beach had been transformed into something out of a dream. Strings of fairy lights hung between tall wooden poles, casting a warm, golden light over a blanket spread neatly on the sand. Soft, colorful pillows were arranged in inviting clusters, and a bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket nearby. Candles flickered in the gentle breeze, their flames casting dancing shadows across the scene.

“Pedro,” you breathed, your voice catching. Your hand flew to your chest as you took it all in. “What is this?”

He turned to you, his expression softer, more serious than you’d ever seen. “Something I’ve been planning for a while now.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Pedro took both of your hands in his, his fingers warm and slightly trembling. His thumb stroked over your knuckles, grounding both of you in the moment.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “About everything we’ve been through. About how much you’ve changed my life. You’re my best friend, my partner, my everything. You’ve made me laugh on my worst days and held me together when I thought I’d fall apart. I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up in your eyes. He squeezed your hands, his gaze locked on yours.

“I want your midnights and late-night snack hunts,” he continued, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I want to slow dance in the kitchen with you, humming our favorite songs. I want every moment, big and small, because you make all of them better just by being there.”

Pedro dropped to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. The sight stole the breath from your lungs.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, his brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you?”

You were nodding before he even finished speaking, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “Yes,” you choked out, your voice trembling with joy. “Of course, yes.”

The world seemed to hold its breath as Pedro slid the ring onto your finger. It was delicate and timeless, a gold band adorned with a diamond that shimmered under the fairy lights. You recognized it instantly as the one his mother had worn in old photographs. The significance of it made your heart swell.

Pedro stood and pulled you into his arms, spinning you around as laughter bubbled from your lips. Tears mingled with joy as you clung to him, your face buried in his neck.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his hair.

Cheers erupted behind you, startling you both. You turned to see Omar, Franklin, Lauren, and a handful of other friends holding sparklers, their faces alight with joy as they cheered and clapped. Phones were out, capturing the moment from every angle. The scene felt surreal, like something out of a fairy tale.

Pedro’s smile widened as he kissed you again, his lips soft and lingering against yours. When the fireworks began, you flinched at the loud bangs, your body instinctively tensing. Pedro’s arms tightened around you, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “Always.”

You pressed your face into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. When you looked up, his hand was already there to wipe away the stray tear trailing down your face.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, taking your hand. “I want to start this year with just us.”

You nodded, letting him lead you back to your suite. The walk felt like a dream, the buzz of the party and the distant sound of fireworks fading into the background. When you entered the room, the warmth of his hand never left yours.

Pedro closed the door gently behind you, his eyes soft but brimming with unspoken emotion. He stepped closer, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“You’re my everything,” he murmured before his lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the intoxicating taste of him.

Clothes were shed in a trail leading to the bed, each piece falling away with whispered promises and quiet gasps. Pedro’s hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory. His lips followed, leaving a trail of fire along your skin that made you shiver.

He laid you down gently, his body hovering over yours. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice low and reverent.

“Never,” you whispered, your hands threading through his hair to pull him back down to you.

The night stretched on, filled with love and passion. Pedro’s touch was both tender and consuming, every kiss and caress carrying the weight of his feelings. And as you lay tangled together afterward, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew this was the first of countless nights you’d spend like this.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed, your voice soft and full of love.

With Pedro beside you, the future felt impossibly bright.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — MORNING

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. You stirred awake, the warmth of Pedro’s arms wrapped securely around you. His chest rose and fell against your back, the soft rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a sense of pure peace.

“Good morning, fiancé,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “Good morning, fiancé.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a lazy grin as he brushed a kiss against your temple. “Fiancé. I like how that sounds. Doesn’t it sound so official? Like I’ve been upgraded.”

You laughed, rolling over to face him fully. “Oh, it’s an upgrade, all right. High maintenance, though. Hope you’re ready for that.”

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. “Worth every bit of maintenance,” he said softly, his brown eyes locking onto yours with a gaze so full of love it made your heart ache.

After a few blissful moments of cuddling, you sat up, the blanket slipping off your shoulders. Pedro reached for his phone on the nightstand, his fingers brushing yours as you both instinctively checked your messages.

The notifications on his screen were wild—texts from friends, family, and coworkers all pouring in, congratulating him. You could already hear Franklin’s teasing voice in your head: “Finally! You pulled it off without tripping over yourself.”

Pedro chuckled at the chaos. “Looks like the engagement buzz has already started.”

You glanced at his phone over his shoulder, spotting a text from his sister. “Let me guess, your sister is already planning our wedding?”

“Not just her—my cousins have entered the group chat. They’re plotting from all angles.” He scrolled further, smirking as he turned his phone toward you. “Look at this: Lauren sent a voice note. Wanna bet it’s just her screaming?”

You both laughed as he played the message, and sure enough, Lauren’s excited squeals filled the room.

“I love them,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And they love you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Speaking of love… I was thinking. Maybe it’s time I post something. You know, about us.”

You raised an eyebrow. Pedro was famously private when it came to his personal life. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He turned to you, his expression serious but full of warmth. “I want the whole world to know how lucky I am. I want to shout it from the rooftops—or, you know, post it on Instagram.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you nudged him playfully. “You’re such a romantic, Pascal.”

He grinned, already opening the app. “Only for you, amor.”

Pedro scrolled through the photos you’d taken during the trip, landing on one from last night. It was a candid shot that Franklin had snapped during the proposal. You were mid-laugh, tears of joy sparkling in your eyes, and Pedro was on one knee, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

“That one,” he said softly, showing you the picture. “It’s perfect.”

Your heart swelled. “It’s us.”

Pedro typed the caption, pausing dramatically as he turned the phone toward you. “‘Guess what 💍.’ Too much?”

You burst out laughing, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “It’s perfect. Post it before I change my mind and make you write a paragraph.”

He tapped the screen, and the post was live.

It didn’t take long for the post to gain traction. Within minutes, the comments flooded in, and Pedro couldn’t stop grinning as he scrolled through them, reading some aloud.

@ franklinlatt: FINALLY. My boy did it. I’m crying. Call me later or I’m disowning you.

@ laurenalexander: AHHHH!!! We need a wedding planning spreadsheet STAT.

@ omar.apollo: Pedro Pascal is officially off the market. RIP to all of us. Congrats, you two!!

Fans were equally unhinged:

@ pedropascalfan101: I AM SOBBING. LOOK AT THEM.

@ fiancégoals: Pedro, how does it feel to have found the literal love of your life? Asking for a friend.

@ pedropascalfanaccount: HOLY CRAP HE DID IT. DADDY IS OFF THE MARKET.

@ pedropascalforever: We love this for you but also… who do I cry to about this???

@ pedrostan: She’s GORGEOUS. Look at them. LOOK AT THEM. I’M SOBBING.

@ cocoullrich: About damn time, man! Congrats to you both!

@ pascalloml: Pedro Pascal is the blueprint of a man. Take notes, everyone.

@ hollywoodbuzz: Pedro Pascal announces engagement in the most adorable way ever. We’re not crying; YOU are.

Pedro chuckled, showing you the screen. “I think they’re happy for us.”

You leaned against him, scrolling through the comments. “Some of them are a little heartbroken, though.”

He kissed your cheek. “They’ll survive. I’ve already won the lottery with you, anyway.”

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — LATER THAT MORNING

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. After a decadent breakfast in bed—mimosas fizzing in crystal glasses, pancakes piled high and dripping with syrup—you and Pedro moved to the balcony. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, its gentle rhythm matching the easy calm between you.

Pedro leaned back in his chair, a slight breeze ruffling his tousled hair, his eyes fixed on you with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You were turning your engagement ring slowly between your fingers, the sunlight catching on the delicate details of the band.

“It was my mom’s, you know,” he said, his voice breaking the peaceful silence.

Your head shot up, surprise and awe softening your expression. “Pedro…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you’d trust me with something so meaningful.”

He reached across the small table, his hand enveloping yours, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles over your skin. “It’s not just trust, amor. It’s love. Belonging. This ring belonged to her, and now it belongs to you. Because you’re my family now. You’re the person I want to build my life with—the one I want to pass this kind of love down through.”

The sincerity in his words undid you. Your eyes filled with tears, but you managed a shaky smile. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you? Were you saving all this charm for after the engagement?”

Pedro laughed, the sound warm and rich, leaning forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not the only one evolving here. I’m in full fiancé mode now—expect poetic declarations, grand gestures, and probably some embarrassing moments along the way.”

You giggled, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. “I don’t think my heart can handle much more.”

He grinned, the dimple you loved so much making its appearance. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away—the waves, the breeze, the distant hum of life below. There was only Pedro and the quiet magic of being his.

Then, his phone buzzed on the table, pulling you both back to the present. Pedro glanced at the screen and groaned. “It’s Lux. She’s FaceTiming me. Should we answer, or let her stew a little longer?”

“Answer,” you said, laughing. “You know she won’t stop until you do.”

With a resigned smile, Pedro swiped to accept the call, holding the phone out so you were both in the frame. Lux’s face appeared, and her mock-outrage was immediate.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I’ve been waiting for this moment forever. And no heads-up? No exclusive family memo?”

Pedro smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Some things are worth keeping a surprise, hermana.”

Lux rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, surprise or not, I’m happy for you guys. You’re disgustingly perfect together, and I love it. But don’t think this gets you out of celebrating properly when you’re back.”

You leaned into the frame, grinning. “We’ll be ready for whatever chaos you’ve got planned.”

“Good. Oh, and don’t forget to call Dad, Pedro,” Lux added, her tone turning maternal.

Pedro groaned. “Yes, yes. I’ll call him right after this. Thanks for the reminder, coach.”

Lux laughed. “Love you both. Now go enjoy your engagement. And call Dad, or I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

As the call ended, Pedro set his phone down with a shake of his head. “That woman. It’s like she’s my manager and life coach rolled into one.”

You smiled, leaning your chin on your hand as you gazed at him. “She’s not wrong, though. You should call your dad before he finds out from the media.”

Pedro sighed dramatically but nodded. “You’re right, as usual. I’ll be back in a second.”

He disappeared inside to make the call, leaving you on the balcony with the soothing sound of the waves and the weight of the ring on your finger. You turned it slowly, marveling at the reality of it all.

When Pedro returned, his face was lit with joy. “He cried. Happy tears, don’t worry. And he’s already planning a trip to wherever we’re going next.”

You laughed. “Guess we’d better get ready for some family bonding.”

Pedro sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “I feel the same way. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

He leaned down to kiss you, soft and lingering, as if sealing a vow between you. The world felt bright and endless, full of promise. And for the first time, you were certain: you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedrito #pedrohub #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal main masterlist #pedro pascal masterlist #pedro pascal social media au

541 notes · View notes

joonberriess · 1 year ago

Text

teeth. ☆ j.jk

⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting

⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k

⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”

The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.

You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.

Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.

“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”

Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.

“What number is this?”

“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.

You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”

You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.

“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”

You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.

“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.

You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.

“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.

You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.

“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.

You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.

“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”

“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”

“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”

You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.

He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.

You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.

“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.

The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.

“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.

He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.

You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.

“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.

You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.

You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.

He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.

You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.

He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.

“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.

“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.

A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.

He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.

“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.

Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.

You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.

There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.

“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.

“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.

A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.

He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.

You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.

From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.

“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.

You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.

“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.

His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.

“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.

He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.

When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.

“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.

Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.

“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.

A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.

“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”

You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.

“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.

You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.

He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.

You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.

“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.

You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.

Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.

“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.

“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”

A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

[halloween m.list]

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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amirasainz · 2 months ago

Note

What about Charles x girlfriend where they spend the day on the yacht with friends, but Charles is busy admiring his gf

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

A Day on the Riviera

The sun shone brightly on the Côte d’Azur as the group of six gathered on the pristine yacht bobbing gently in the azure waters. The laughter and chatter filled the air, the perfect blend of friendship, love, and relaxation. The yacht was as luxurious as it was spacious, but the real charm was the people on board: Charles, his girlfriend Yn, Carlos with Rebecca, and Pierre with Kika.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Charles couldn’t take his eyes off Yn. She was sitting with Rebecca and Kika, the three of them engrossed in conversation and giggling over something Rebecca had just said. Yn was wearing a flowy sundress that complemented her perfectly, her hair catching the sunlight and her smile radiant enough to rival the sun.

“She looks like a literal goddess,” Charles murmured, half to himself, half to Carlos, who was standing beside him.

Carlos raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Mate, you’ve been staring at her for the past hour. You’re obsessed.”

“And proud of it,” Charles shot back, not even trying to deny it.

Pierre overheard and joined in the teasing. “Let the man live, Carlos. He’s clearly whipped.” Pierre chuckled, sipping his drink. “But seriously, Charles, blink once in a while.”

Charles rolled his eyes, though his gaze remained fixed on Yn. “She deserves it. Look at her. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Alright, Romeo, we get it.” Carlos nudged him playfully. “But don’t forget, we’re here too.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Meanwhile, the girls were having a conversation of their own. Kika leaned closer to Yn, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re glowing, Yn. I swear, if you told me you were royalty, I’d believe it.”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically. “She’s right. You’re like a princess straight out of a fairytale. Charles is so lucky.”

Yn blushed, waving them off. “Stop it, you two. You’re making me shy!”

“No, no, no!” Kika exclaimed, her eyes wide. “You deserve every compliment. Honestly, the way Charles looks at you? I’d trade my soul for that kind of love.”

Rebecca laughed. “Same here. And the way he’s been snapping pictures of you all day? Girl, he’s obsessed.”

“Speaking of which…” Yn trailed off as Charles finally broke away from the boys and started making his way toward her.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Charles approached with a grin, phone in hand. “Ladies, I hope you don’t mind if I steal Yn for a moment.”

“Steal her? Charles, she’s already yours,” Rebecca teased, nudging Yn playfully.

Yn stood up, smiling at Charles as he reached for her hand. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said softly, his green eyes sparkling. “I just wanted to take some pictures of you. You look... breathtaking.”

Rebecca and Kika exchanged knowing looks and let out dramatic sighs. “Ugh, goals,” Kika whispered, making Yn laugh.

Charles led Yn to the bow of the yacht, where the view of the sea stretched endlessly. He positioned her against the golden sunlight and began snapping pictures. “Just like that,” he murmured, “You’re perfect.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Yn said, though her smile gave away how much she adored his attention.

“No,” Charles said, lowering the phone to look at her directly. “I’m being honest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Yn stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re sweet, but you don’t have to keep flattering me, you know.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Charles replied before leaning in to kiss her. It was soft and tender, the kind of kiss that spoke volumes about how deeply he cared for her.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Back at the seating area, Carlos and Pierre watched the scene unfold.

“Charles is laying it on thick today,” Carlos commented with a grin.

Pierre chuckled. “Hey, you can’t blame the guy. He’s head over heels. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

Rebecca leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Honestly, if Charles keeps this up, he’s setting a new standard for boyfriends everywhere.”

Kika nodded. “Right? Imagine being loved like that every single day.”

Carlos feigned a pout. “You two better not start comparing us to Charles. We’ve got our own charm, you know.”

Rebecca smirked. “Of course you do, cariño. But admit it, Charles has set the bar high.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Charles and Yn returned to the group, hand in hand. Yn looked flushed but happy, and Charles had an unmistakable look of pride on his face.

“Have you finished your impromptu photoshoot?” Pierre teased.

“For now,” Charles replied easily, pulling Yn closer to his side. “But only because I have the most beautiful subject to work with.”

Rebecca and Kika let out matching “awws,” while Carlos rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, man.”

“Good,” Charles shot back with a grin. “You should all treat your girlfriends like queens.”

Pierre raised his glass. “Touché. To queens and whipped boyfriends, then.”

Everyone laughed, clinking their glasses together. The day carried on with more laughter, playful teasing, and plenty of love in the air. As the sun began to set over the Riviera, Charles leaned into Yn’s ear and whispered, “Every moment with you is perfect. You know that, right?”

Yn looked up at him, her heart swelling. “And you make every moment feel like a dream.”

For Charles, there was no teasing in the world that could make him care. Yn was his everything, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x rebecca donaldson #carlos sainz x reader #pierre gasly x kika gomes #pierre gasly x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader

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act-nat-ural · 2 months ago

Text

It started when Kuroo referred to you as his ‘karaoke wife.’ Kenma’s face twisted into one of clear disgust. “What does that even mean..” Kuroo threw an arm around your shoulder and gave you a smug look. “Care to explain?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hold back your smile. “It means we only go to karaoke if the other is going.” The team gave you an unimpressed look as Kuroo gestured for you to go on. You sighed and avoided eye contact, mumbling, “We also only do duets with each other.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Fukunaga let out a giggle and Yamamoto muttered, “I wish I had a karaoke wife,” under his breath.

Kuroo chuckled, sensing your discomfort. “What she means is, we’ve got a vibe when we sing together. Like, there’s this chemistry between us that just clicks. It’s like we can read each other’s minds, you know? We can start a song without saying a word, and it just flows. Perfect harmonies, smooth transitions… It’s like we’re in sync. Like we *get* each other, musically.”

The team looked between you and Kuroo with varying degrees of skepticism. Kenma raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, chemistry, sure.”

“You know,” Kuroo continued, leaning back and grinning, “There’s a special kind of magic when you’re so in tune with someone. We can make any song sound like it’s meant for us. Ever heard of ‘The Power of Love’?” He looked to you, eyes glinting. “It’s like, you and I? We can turn even the cheesiest love songs into something everyone wants to listen to. And don’t get me started on our ‘Shallow’ duet. We had the whole room cheering.”

You felt the familiar rush of both pride and bashfulness. “It’s not that impressive,” you muttered, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You were secretly proud of the way your voices blended, the effortless way you made each performance feel unique.

“Are you kidding?” Kuroo scoffed, clearly enjoying the teasing. “I’m pretty sure we make every karaoke night legendary. I mean, do you see how we make the crowd react? They go wild. It's not just the song—it’s us. We’ve got that... thing.”

The team was silent for a moment, trying to process what Kuroo was saying. Finally, Fukunaga spoke up, a teasing smile creeping up on his face. “I don’t know, man. If I’m ever looking for a duet partner, I might just steal (Name) away from you.”

Kuroo’s face immediately shifted into mock offense. “Try it. You’ll regret it.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you?”

“Nope.” Kuroo leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. “You and I? We’ve got karaoke magic. I’m not just letting anyone ruin that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the embarrassment from earlier melting away in the warmth of Kuroo’s words. He always knew how to make you feel special, and even though the teasing never stopped, you had to admit—it was kind of nice to be his ‘karaoke wife.’ The team might not get it, but you knew. When you two sang together, nothing else mattered.

But just as the moment seemed to settle, a voice rang out from Yamamoto, his grin wide and mischievous. “Kuroo, you do know you two are terrible, right?”

Kuroo’s confident smile faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Excuse me?”

Yamamoto shrugged with a grin, and Kenma, looking utterly bored, added dryly, “I mean, you both sound like two dying cats trying to harmonize. It’s not really the chemistry you think it is.”

The whole team, seemingly in agreement, nodded along. “You guys literally can’t stay on key for more than a few notes,” Fukunaga chimed in, barely suppressing his laughter.

You blushed, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “Okay, okay, maybe we're not great... but it’s fun, right?”

“You and Kuroo are the worst,” Kenma said, deadpan. “You sound like you’re trying to hit notes that just don’t exist.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the realization. “We’re not that bad,” you protested, but even you knew it was true. Kuroo, despite his confidence, was as tone-deaf as they came, and your singing wasn’t much better.

Kuroo threw his hands up dramatically. “You’re all just jealous of our unmatched charisma!”

The team snickered, and Yamamoto playfully patted Kuroo on the back. “Sure, buddy. But hey, we’ll still cheer you on. You’re great... at making everyone else sound better.”

With that, you and Kuroo exchanged a look, both of you trying not to crack up. Despite all the teasing, you knew one thing for sure—karaoke with Kuroo was never about being the best. It was about having fun, creating memories, and laughing at how awful your singing was. And honestly? That was more than enough for both of you.

note: kinda short but oh well

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq #haikyuu x female reader #fem!reader #hq drabble #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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zombvic · 7 months ago

Note

enemies to lovers w kenan??🙏🙏

EYE TO EYE (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n and a certain turkish-german football player dont see eye to eye

face claim : no one exact

notes : thank you for the request !! hope its like you wanted :3

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , childhood "enemies"

Ever since you can remember, Kenan has been a constant presence in your life. From childhood, you two never saw eye to eye. He was always around, whether it was a family dinner, a holiday gathering, or a neighborhood barbecue. The day your families became intertwined marked the start of what seemed like the ideal love story—the boy and girl next door. But reality was far from that.

As your families grew closer, it seemed like opposites attracted for them. Kenan was considered the typical jock: charismatic, popular, always surrounded by friends, and stereotypically, a football player. You, on the other hand, were far more reserved but possessed a strangely attractive confidence.

Kenan always challenged you. As the years passed, your dynamic didn't change. Your parents wanted you to be friends, but neither of you made the effort. Despite your parents' close friendship and frequent attempts to foster a bond between you, neither cared enough.

As you both grew older, the dynamics shifted subtly. The teasing evolved into playful banter, and the challenges turned into a mutual respect for each other's strengths. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding that perhaps there was more to your relationship than met the eye.

"Y/n, the Yildiz family invited us for a get-together. Make sure you're on your best behavior," your mother said. You never really understood it; it wasn't you who made a huge deal out of your petty arguments. Hell, it wasn't even you who started the arguments. But it was never Kenan who got scolded; no, he was too perfect for that, wasn't he?

"And please, no more fighting. The last barbecue was more than enough." Ah, yes, the last barbecue—it ended with a small fire and a broken ankle. Obviously, it was my ankle; his football career would be in shambles if he broke his ankle during a friends and family event. But it wasn't my fault; he brought up the famous debate of who's the GOAT of Formula 1. I mean, you're literally German, what do you mean you don't think Schumi is the GOAT? The debate was supposed to be settled by a friendly game of pingpong, but it didn't end so friendly. What was I supposed to do, not dodge the racket he THREW at me? In my humble opinion, my actions were more than justified.

As my mom knocked on their front door, we were greeted by Engin, Kenan's father. Their house was cozy, shared between the parents and three boys. Every time we went over, the atmosphere was welcoming.

Kenan stood at the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face as he welcomed us inside. "Hey, Y/n," he greeted me, his tone surprisingly friendly despite our history.

"Hey," I replied, trying to mask the uneasy feeling his presence always seemed to stir in me. His eyes held some sort of amusement, as if he could sense my discomfort. I walked past to enter the familiar space of their kitchen connected to the backyard entrance.

Engin ushered us towards the backyard where the rest of the family and a few guests were gathered around the barbecue grill. Kenan's brothers were playing football in the yard, their laughter blending with the hum of conversation.

"Hope you're hungry," Engin chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. "We've got plenty to go around."

Kenan slid next to me as we walked to the table, his voice low. "So, how's life?" he asked with genuine interest.

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden sincerity. "Um, it's been alright," I replied cautiously. "Busy with school and all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. Are you still into that video editing thing you were doing last summer?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise that he remembered. "Yeah, actually. I've gotten some offers from certain companies."

"That's really cool," he said with a nod, a hint of admiration in his voice.

We reached the table where the food was laid out, and Kenan held out a plate for me to take first. I couldn't help but notice the small gesture of consideration, a far cry from our usual banter or tense interactions.

"Thanks," I said quietly, feeling a flicker of warmth towards him that I hadn't expected. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Kenan than the cocky football player I always assumed him to be.

As the evening went on, the atmosphere at the barbecue shifted from tentative civility to a surprising ease between Kenan and Y/n. Engin's expert grilling skills were matched by his knack for storytelling, keeping everyone entertained with humorous anecdotes from his youth. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with laughter and the occasional cheer from the ongoing soccer match in the yard.

Kenan and Y/n found themselves drawn into a playful banter over who could stack their burger higher with toppings, each trying to outdo the other with combinations that ranged from classic to unconventional. It became a mini competition, with Kenan daring Y/n to try his "ultimate burger creation" while she countered with her own daring concoction of flavors.

"You're seriously putting pineapple and jalapenos together?" Kenan raised an eyebrow, eyeing Y/n's bold choice of toppings skeptically.

"Why not?" Y/n grinned mischievously, carefully balancing the overflowing tower of burger ingredients. "It's a winning combo."

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief as he expertly flipped another burger on the grill. "Alright, I'll admit, you've got guts. Let's see if it actually tastes as good as it looks."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the backyard, Kenan's brothers approached with mischievous grins on their faces. "Hey, Kenan! Y/n! How about a friendly game of football?" they called out enthusiastically, kicking a soccer ball playfully towards them.

Kenan glanced at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You guys sure you want to challenge us? You might regret it," he teased, his competitive spirit already rising to the surface.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a surprising rush of excitement at the prospect of playing alongside Kenan instead of against him for once. "Bring it on, boys," she replied confidently, flashing a grin that mirrored Kenan's.

With a nod from Kenan, they divided into teams—Kenan and Y/n against his brothers. The game started with playful banter and competitive energy, but something shifted as they played. Kenan's skill on the field was undeniable, his passes precise and his movements fluid. Y/n found herself naturally falling into sync with him, their teamwork surprisingly effortless.

They communicated with quick glances and nods, strategizing on the fly and covering each other's positions seamlessly. Kenan's brothers put up a good fight, but Kenan and Y/n's teamwork proved to be a formidable force.

"Nice pass!" Kenan called out as Y/n dribbled past Eren with skillful footwork, earning an approving nod from him.

"You're pretty good at football, Kenan. You should consider becoming a professional," Y/n joked with a playful smirk.

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head modestly. "I don't know about that. I'd probably miss all the glamour of backyard games like this."

"Get a room, lovebirds," His brothers teased from the sidelines, a mischievous grin on their face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully nudging Kenan. "Ignore him. They're just jealous that we make a better team than they do."

The game continued with laughter, cheers, and occasional playful taunts exchanged between teams. As the friendly competition progressed, Kenan and you found themselves enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't before. The usual tension and rivalry gave way to shared goals and a shared sense of accomplishment each time they scored or defended together.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the game wound down, The brothers conceded defeat with good humor, congratulating Kenan and Y/n on their victory.

"You guys were awesome!" Kenans brother exclaimed, grinning broadly as he bumped fists with Kenan and Y/n. "We'll have to challenge you again sometime."

Kenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Anytime, little bro. Just be prepared to lose again," he teased playfully.

As they gathered their breath and laughter echoed in the cooling evening air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of camaraderie with Kenan. Working together had brought out a side of him she hadn't seen before—the focused, determined athlete who also knew how to have fun and appreciate teamwork.

"Thanks for the game, Y/n," Kenan said quietly, his tone sincere as he glanced at her with a soft smile.

You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips in response. "Likewise, Kenan. It was... refreshing," she admitted, surprising herself with the honesty of her words.

As they shared a meaningful smile, the evening continued with laughter, shared stories, and the hope for more moments like this—where they weren't basically on the verge of killing eachother, but actual friends, if not more.

im sorry this kinda doesnt have plot and sounds kinda npc but erm ! ignore that plz

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz #juventus fc #fluff

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jinnie-ret · 1 year ago

Text

perfect night

poly!stray kids x idol!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1k

requested: @whoswony

summary: in which stray kids are watching the opening show of their girlfriend's tour, sonder, and they come to realise a song is dedicated purely to them

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Oh how smug you felt, that a song you had written that was purely dedicated to your boys, could still be released and put onto your latest album, Sonder. Truth be told, it was masked as a song to all your 'girls' out there, about spending time with them being your most favourite thing in the world, and not needing anything else. That was how it actually made it onto the album. But you knew who you really wrote it for.

You wrote the song for Chan, who dedicated his life to protecting each of his partners and prioritising them over himself.

For Minho, who willingly let you read him like a book and get to know him because he wasn't scared of opening up to you.

For Changbin, who often indulged in late night deep conversations with you, whether they were trivial matters that you spiraled deeply into, or more serious ones that helped each of you lift the weight off of your shoulders.

For Hyunjin, whose dramatic antics yet romantic attitude always made you swoon, no matter how goofy he would suddenly become.

You wrote it for Jisung, who always managed to keep you on your toes, whether it be from him bursting into song, his sleep clinginess or his rambles about his new favourite anime that inspired him to write a song or two.

For Felix, who was your constant source of happiness, smiles radiating sunshine and reflecting his light across your shadows, forever brightening your day.

For Seungmin, your cheeky yet very emotionally intelligent partner in crime who helped you stay rational in times when all you could see was doom and gloom.

And finally for Jeongin, who always insisted his admiration for you, was levels above your own for him, because he couldn't believe that it was possible for anyone to be more adored in this world than you.

They were all you needed. And you couldn't wait to show them that, and finally be able to express that to them through the other thing you all loved - music.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Gorgeous yet eery piano notes echoed across the walls of the stadium as you made your entrance, like you were a mystical being that your fans laid their eyes upon.

"She's so hot," Jeongin sighed as he leant across the railings.

"Real," Hyunjin nodded, tongue grazing his upper lip.

"Stop perving on our girlfriend," Seungmin sighed and whacked them on the backs of their heads.

Your boyfriends were sat on an upper tier of the seating in the stadium, safely away from fans and any possible suspicions to why they were there. Luckily, if that case was ever made, fans would be sure to defend you, knowing that you and Jeongin were friends at SOPA.

If only they knew that the two of you were way more than friends. As well as his seven other band members.

Suddenly a new track they hadn't heard started playing, some calming guitar sounding out before a drum track starting kicking in and their girlfriend's poppy voice blended perfectly with the music.

"Come and take a ride with me, I got a credit card and some good company..."

"Wait, that's about us, right?" Chan's eyes widened and a big grin appeared on his face.

"She literally said her girlies," Minho said bluntly, making Chan laugh.

"We're sort of the girlies," Han shrugged.

"Yeah Jisung you do give baby girl energy to be fair," Felix laughed.

"So does Binnie," Jisung added on, smiling as their girl performed.

The fun, light-hearted choreography made you shine with your bright energy.

"I feel so proud, wahhh," Changbin held his hand over his heart, bopping along to the music much like his other boyfriends.

"Quick, let's head backstage!" Felix pushed his other boyfriends forwards down the stairs in pure excitement as the concert came to an end.

-★-★-★-★-★-

Stretched out on the sofa in your dressing room, sipping from some water, you nearly choked on your mouthful as the door burst open with eight men pouring through.

"You were so good!"

"That song was about us right?!"

"Right?!"

You giggled as you were quite literally smothered in their love, kisses being peppered across your face, your neck, your hands, swallowed up in the arms of your boyfriends.

"Yah! What if I was getting changed?" you gasped playfully as you pushed them all away.

"I wouldn't be complaining," Hyunjin smirked before getting a neck slap from Minho.

"Hey!"

And on they went playfully fighting as Chan gave you one of his hoodies he brought with him, just for you.

"Thanks love," you smiled fondly, pulling the fluffy black hoodie over your head as Jeongin tugged you into his arms.

"You really wrote a song about us?" Felix grabbed your hands to gain your attention.

"How could you tell?" you pushed your lips together, trying not to let any words spill out straight away. You'd keep them guessing just that bit longer, that was your game.

"Credit card and some good company? You literally said that to us one time," Seungmin shrugged knowingly, with shake of his head to get the hair out of his face. He had been growing it longer recently - no objections from you.

"That could just be about my friends," you feigned ignorance.

"Nah!"

"No way!"

"Hey I have friends!" you stood up, folding your arms and detesting their claims.

"We know you do, we know love," Changbin back hugged you tightly.

"But you also have us, hmm?" Minho smirked, tickling under your chin like you were one of his cats.

"And we're way better company!" Han declared, from his spot sat on top of Jeongin as he teased the younger and cooed like you all normally did with the maknae.

"I think Jeongin would disagree," you said dryly.

"I would!" the fox boy choked out, nearly sounding suffocated with distraught as he wrestled the older boy off of him.

"But you wouldn't, would you? Don't deny it, that song was for us," Seungmin pointed out.

"Mmm, sure, whatever you want to believe," you looked down at your feet shyly, knowing there was no turning back from here. They had caught you out. But you didn't mind anymore, you were happy because they were too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @j-one25

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guiltyc0nscience · 1 month ago

Text

⋆˙⟡ lacy, oh, lacy, matt sturniolo

ex!matt sturniolo x ex!fem reader

synopsis. in which your ex boyfriend matt gets a new girlfriend and you envy her.

warnings. angst, self comparison, ex!matt, jealousy.

word count. 700 words.

authors note. this is my fav song on guts :(

you were scrolling mindlessly through instagram, half-distracted by the show playing in the background, when it hits you like a punch in the gut.

matt’s name.

you almost swipe past it, the little blue checkmark drawing your attention before your brain has time to catch up. the first photo in the carousel is enough to make your chest tighten; matt’s unmistakable smile, wild and carefree, his arm slung casually around the waist of a girl who is undeniably beautiful.

she’s perfect in a way that feels cruel. her hair is shiny and soft, her skin glowing like she exists in some perpetually golden hour. she’s wearing a baby pink skirt and a white tank top, that made you second-guess every piece of clothing you ever owned. and matt—he’s looking at her like she’s the only thing that matters, his gaze full of that rare blend of comfort and adoration that used to be reserved for you.

your fingers hovered over the screen, but the curiosity wins. you click on her profile—never a good idea.

her name is lacy, a name as delicate and ethereal as she looks. her bio is full of cute emojis, and her feed is an endless stream of photos that make her seem both unreachable heartbreakingly real. there are candids of her laughing with friends, aesthetic shots of iced-lattes and sunsets, flawless photos of her, and of course, more pictures of her with matt.

each photo was a dagger.

you scroll further, unable to stop yourself. there’s a photo of her in a bikini that hugged her perfect body in all the right ways, standing on the beach, her arms wrapped around matt as he leans down to kiss her forehead. the stunning sunset in the background really setting the scene.

you hate her. you hate how easily she seems to slot into the life that used to be yours. you hate the way she seems so effortlessly happy, like she’s never had to sit in her room crying after seeing someone else post photos like this. most of all, you hate how much she reminds you of everything you’re not.

lacy was kind. you could tell by the way people commented under her posts, by the stories where she’s tagged with the captions like “the sweetest person alive” and “my literal angel.” she’s funny, too, with captions that actually made you laugh even though you resented her for it. and then there’s the way she looks at matt in every picture. it’s the kind of look you recognised because it used to be yours.

and matt—he’s happy. he looks like he’s found the thing he’s been searching for.

it feels like a slap in the face.

you tell yourself to stop. to close the app, put your phone down, and do literally anything else. but instead, you go back to his post, lingering on the comment section. the flood of heart emojis and “you two are perfect” messages like tiny arrows, each one reminding you that this is his life now.

he doesn’t think about you anymore.

the realisation hits harder than you expect. it’s not like you thought he was still pining for you, but seeing it laid out in front of you—proof that he’s moved on, that he’s happy—makes your stomach churn.

you close instagram and toss your phone onto your bed next to you, but the damage is done. lacy is burned into your mind now, an image you can’t shake. you think about her at random moments, comparing yourself to her in ways that feel pathetic but impossible to stop.

would matt have loved you more if you’d been more like her? if you’d laughed more or dressed better or been softer around the edges?

you hate how much you care.

it’s not just jealousy—it’s grief. for what you had with matt, for the person you were when you were with him. for the version of you that thought she was enough.

you try to tell yourself it’s just a passing feeling, that in a few days this ache will dull into something manageable. but tonight, it’s sharp and all-consuming, and it’s hard not to feel like lacy has taken more than matt from you.

she’s taken the version of yourself that felt loved.

and you can’t stop wondering if you’ll ever get her back.

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i-mean-y-not · 5 months ago

Text

The Boy Next Door

Armin is the quintessential boy next door. No, quite literally, his family moved in when he was thirteen and you were twelve.

He was always reserved.

You watched each other grow up. From a distance, of course, seeing as you never spoke to each other outside of neighborly dinners.

While you ran in different social circles, you swear he was always in your peripheral. You tended to stick with the crowd that tolerated school but was prepared to skip a class at a moments notice.

His group of friends, however didn’t really… suit him. Onyankopon was this calm yet smoldering guy, but remained casual in his social settings. You’d never seen him utter a word but his eyes spoke volumes. Connie was the definition of hyper. With his expressive and colorful wardrobe and the almost manic way he approached everything. Eren was one of the most nonchalant people you’ve ever seen. His hair was always in a half up – half down style, and his eyes pierced through even the thinnest of gazes.

Then, there was Armin.

The one that wore a collared shirt and a pullover with the name of a prestigious university on it almost daily. Armin screamed teenage dream. With his signature floppy blonde hair, and quiet laugh that he never showcased more than twice in your presence.

Armin had lofty dreams. Claiming since he was all the fourteen that he was going to Yale. And despite his friend group, he was determined to do just that. While he’s getting acceptance letters, no doubt and planning to move halfway across the world, you were stuck. Confused, without a clue, aspiration, or goal that you truly wanted to pursue.

You’ve been accepted to your local college and plan on taking your general studies there, but after that? It’s all up in the air. Graduation comes and goes and the finality sinks in.

You toss and turn in your bed the week after and find yourself sneaking out of the house to sit on the beach adjacent to your home. The ocean waves lull you into a peaceful slumber and before you know it, you’re being gently shaken awake. Groggily, you pop an eye open and you’re immediately met with blue.

The ocean has nothing on this blue, though. This blue is a mixture between the sky on its clearest day and hues that streak the sky on the darkest night. This blue stares at you in worry as you hurriedly sit up despite your obvious fatigue.

“The hell is wrong with you?” you murmur, slapping at Armin’s hands. He responds by throwing them up in quiet surrender. He sits on the sand next to you and this is the closest you’ve been in about a year.

“Been a minute.”

And yeah that voice is still the same.

It’s the perfect blend of soothing and gruff and you’re tempted to fall right back asleep again after a three measly words.

“It has,” you respond.

“You okay?” he counters. Just then the breeze flies between the two of you and you inhale the eucalyptus scent that flows off him.

“Fine.” you reply.

That’s all you have and with an awkward yet self assured stumble, you get up, shake the sand off, and start the trek back to your house.

It’s not that you dislike Armin.

No, that was the farthest from the truth. You liked him, a little too much. A crush would be an understatement. You yearned for him. Looked out for him at school, at parties, even through your second story window.

You don’t really know when it started. Somewhere between the mandatory dinners and being semi-friends in middle school.

But he’s never seen you that way and that’s okay.

So, you steer clear. You always have and you fear that you always will. But he has other plans, it seems. Because as the summer approaches its end he’s everywhere.

He’s at the beach when you can’t sleep. He’s at the convenience store when you run in for a ginger ale. He’s even at the pool that you barely frequent because you can’t swim.

And now he’s at your local diner sitting right next to you at the dine-in counter.

You don’t notice that it’s him at first. Content to enjoy your greasy cheeseburger and cookies and cream milkshake, you feel someone take the seat next to you while you munch happily on a fry.

The twenty something waitress bats her eyes and asks for the order of the patron. They pause and respond, “Can I have a vanilla milkshake with a large fry, heavy on the seasoning?”

Your head snaps to the right at that oddly specific order. And there he was. You don’t greet him, too flummoxed by the intense way he’s already staring at you.

You’re content to swivel back around in your seat and sip at your milkshake once more. He doesn’t stay silent for long, however.

“Hi,” he greets.

And the sigh you give is more like a seventy mile an hour gust of wind in a hurricane. “Can I help you?”

His eyes don’t waver for even a millisecond. He hums to himself, a quiet, raspy sound that tapers off before he replies. “You can actually.”

Your eyes blink owlishly at him as the waitress sits his order down in front of him. Instead of answering, your eyebrows almost meet in the middle of your forehead. “Go out with me.”

And you almost fall backwards onto the unsterile floor. The fry that was meant for your mouth now hangs limply in your hand.

What is going on?

“Check please!” You exclaim.

Now his head slams back as if he’s been physically assaulted. The waitress scurries over, check in hand. You take it from her, and almost instantly, a gentle hand covers yours.

“I got it,” Armin murmurs with a smile that graces just the corner of his lips.

“No,” you adamantly refuse. You already felt hot at the mere thought of going a date with him and if you stay any longer, you’ll cry from the need to shout an affirmative for everyone to hear. So, instead of reading the amount due, you slam down two twenty dollar bills and book it.

It’s two weeks later when there’s a small gathering at Armin’s home. A going away dinner, as one would put it, and you pretend to be sick in order to stay home.

There’s no need to rub elbows with a guy that just acknowledged your existence two Wednesdays ago. So, you sit this one out. You’re more than happy to pass the time under your blanket and streaming a show you’ve seen a thousand times.

You’re fading into an almost slumber when there’s a quiet knock at your door. Your eyes blink open blearily and you hum an almost silent, “Come in.”

A blonde head peeps in and cerulean eyes peer at you from your doorway. You fold your lips in and sit up slightly as an invitation and he’s opening the door so he’ll fit. The slight tilt of your head must give away your confusion so he holds up a paper bag and your head dips even further.

“I heard you were sick,” he offers by way of explanation. The way you have to physically restrain yourself from jumping on him is ridiculous, because what?

Why is he making it so hard for you?

You just wanted him to go off to school and let you have your sad girl hours in peace.

“You can leave it, thanks.” You offer with a small nod.

“You don’t even know what it is, though?” Biting the inside of your cheek you decide to swallow this ridiculous pill of faux friendliness. “Ramen,” he answers before you get a syllable out of your mouth.

And you’re surprised that you don’t have a raging headache because of all the odd movements you’ve forces your cranium into. Ramen is your favorite food, especially on days when you were feeling sick. Ramen was your favorite food when you were feeling…anything. So, the fact that it’s here, steaming in his hand confuses you.

“I went to that place you like,” he says. Which makes you think that this is making less and less sense.

Upon looking at the logo on the bag, you realize that it is in fact from your favorite shop which is perplexing. Thirty minutes each way for one bowl of ramen for a neighbor that you barely speak to just doesn’t add up.

You sit up abruptly. So fast that he flinches back slightly at the unanticipated movement. Your mouth opens slightly in quiet awe and your eyes have to be as wide as they can possibly get. By the blush on his cheeks that you can barely see, you’re informed of something you’d never suspected.

“Shit,” he mumbles, “This isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

And it’s all clicking now.

Slowly, the past seven years are seen through a different lens. He was always in your peripheral because he was looking for you too. But no matter how much you wish it, you don’t want to assume.

So in the most quiet voice you’ve ever spoken you whisper, “Armin do you…like me?”

He laughs; like full on laughs. He laughs so hard you suck your teeth in annoyance and shake your head in slight disappointment. He finally calms down and offers the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen grace a human being.

“Is that not obvious?”

Your jaw gapes in surprise. All this time the person you’ve been pining after wanted you too? Shock is the first emotion, then comes confusion and finally there’s anger.

You sigh. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He rubs his lips together in quiet consternation. “Why didn’t you?”

The small smile that tugs at your lips is proof that this is already having a toe curling, stomach lurching effect on you.

With a smile that touches your very marrow, you whisper, “All this time?”

He simply nods, grin stretching his face and echoes your sentiment. “Yeah, all this time.”

And because you wanna put up a fight and for your own curiosity you ask, “What did you order me?”

At the same time he inquires, “Can I kiss you?” Your nod is almost immediate. His movements are the same and your eyes flutter closed with the first press of his lips onto yours. His mouth works seamlessly against your own and his hands begin to roam. His lips claim yours so fervently that you have no room to even breathe.

You grab his hair roughly as a way to ground the both of you and he groans desperately. Your toes curl from the sound alone and with a small whimper he’s murmuring against your lips. “Please.”

“Yes,” you answer the question that wasn’t even spoken.

His mouth slowly detaches from yours and his eyes flutter open and the blue is long gone. His eyes are now an almost iridescent shade of indigo. And you have to gulp to control what might come tumbling out of your mouth.

Before you utter a word, his mouth is back on you. This time it’s on your throat, then your neck, and he’s traveling further and oh…

“Wait, Arm-”

He doesn’t really give you much of an option. Your body is dragged down until your legs have no choice but to butterfly open for you to be comfortable.

“ I just wanna see you.”

And you slowly realize, that is the problem. That whole quiet and mysterious illusion he gave off was a cover that you’re beginning to see right through. But his voice is as slow and sweet as molasses when he reassures softly, “Just a peek, gorgeous.”

You can’t really refuse that, can you? So you gulp and your inexperience shows when your hands hover in the air awkwardly.

“Here,” he declares, and places your hand atop the mop of curls that is his hair. The ramen he brought is cast aside as he settles on the floor so he’s in a sort of crouch. Like a leopard waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting gazelle. The analogy, you realize, is fitting for the situation you come to understand when he slides your panties down and peeks up at you. Your eyes widen and snap shut almost violently and with a small chuckle he hums.

“That won’t do.” Your eyes blow right back open as soon as you feel his tongue lick its way inside you. A breath whooshes out of you in guilty pleasure and his eyes haven’t left yours yet.

He licks long and thick stripes everywhere and you almost cry in fascination.

You’re not a shy person.

Not at all, but you’re afraid that the sounds you’ll make will be less than sexy. So you stay quiet and that’s the only mistake you’ll make tonight.

He grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders and that’s when the sounds force their way out of you. Every noise you make is either a gasp, cry, or whimper and the encouragement he gives makes you gush. The way he slurps at you should be embarrassing but you can’t find a breath to take let alone a care to give.

His name is on your lips and as your stomach starts to knot and your abdominal muscles cave in, you can’t help but smile.

Then it comes. Your toes curl so hard they crack and your mouth opens on a silent scream. Who knew? The boy next door was now a man who gave you the best—the first—orgasm of your life.

Your eyes blink slowly down at him and the moistness around his mouth should bother you, but you chuckle to yourself in delight.

Ever the gentlemen, he slides your panties back and places a kiss square on your clit and you twitch without giving your body permission to. He gets up and brushes off his khakis and you pretend not to see the very obvious stain that resides there. You fade out slowly after that, body becoming disconnected from the world and slowly fading into unconsciousness.

“Thank you,” you almost slur.

You see the whites of his teeth in response. “It was my pleasure.”

You nod, trying your best to hold onto this moment and right before you slip off into dreamland you murmur, “I love you.”

364 notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 months ago

Text

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

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: 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 thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: 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.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

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🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn.

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly.

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now.

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock…

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

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celestemona · 11 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

a when they're dads au series.

pairing: dad & husband! kaedehara kazuha x fem! reader

cw: established relationship, you and kazuha are married and have children. original characters. domestic and parenting universe. quick mention of pregnant reader. slightly ooc to fit the plot. fluff and not beta read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

part i. | part ii.

Considering Kaedehara Kazuha’s reputation for his mild personality and free spirit, it was difficult for most to imagine the wandering samurai ever pausing his travels, let alone settling into the routines of a homely life.

So you can imagine the shock among fishing and sailing communities throughout Teyvat when whispers began to circulate—not only had Kazuha settled down, but he had also married and started a family.

At first, no one believed it. Surely, it must be some sort of prank.

That was until Captain Beidou, her cheeks flushed with rum, produced a photo to prove the rumors true. The image captured Kazuha’s wedding—a modest yet joyous celebration held by the Crux Fleet on a secluded island in Inazuma. In the photo, Kazuha gazed at you with such unmistakable love that it silenced all doubts.

As the night went on, barrels of rum and beer loosened Beidou’s tongue, and soon, she was regaling curious listeners with tales of your love story. She described how you quite literally fell from the sky into Kazuha’s arms, how your relationship blossomed, endured challenges, and culminated in a heartfelt proposal. She recounted how the two of you decided to rebuild the Kaedehara Clan together, leaving behind the open sea for a life that was quieter—but no less meaningful.

“Oh, and did I mention?” Beidou added with a mischievous grin. “They have three kids now!”

The crowd’s shock was palpable, their wide eyes demanding further details. Beidou, never one to shy away from a good story, obliged.

For Kazuha, this new chapter in his life was one he never thought possible. His teenage years had left him with deep scars, his relationship with his father fraught with tension and misunderstanding. Back at the time, leaving the Kaedehara estate had felt like his only option.

But time and distance had brought healing, and when Kazuha returned to his ancestral home with you by his side, he was overwhelmed not by sorrow, but by a sense of belonging. The estate, once a source of pain, now brimmed with warmth and life, thanks to you and the laughter of your three children.

Kiyomi, your middle child and only daughter is the heart of the family’s liveliness. With her extroverted and mischievous personality, she kept everyone on their toes. Neither you nor Kazuha knew where she had inherited such a fiery temperament, but her boundless energy often left you with gray hairs and Kazuha with an amused smile.

As the only girl in the family, Kiyomi was undoubtedly spoiled by her father, who adored her unconditionally. Her beauty was a perfect blend of your features and Kazuha’s, but what truly set her apart was her kind and stubborn heart.

Your eldest son, Kazumi, was the embodiment of his father. With his relaxed demeanor and serene smile, he was often mistaken for a younger Kazuha. However, Kazumi carried a deep sense of responsibility as the eldest sibling, always keeping a watchful eye on Kiyomi and Haruki.

At the age of ten, Kazumi had already begun learning the Isshin Art from Kazuha. Though he mastered its techniques with ease, he preferred to follow his own path rather than dedicate himself entirely to bladesmithing.

Last but not least, your youngest, Haruki, was the family’s surprise blessing. Born on an autumn morning, he arrived into the world fragile and unwell. Those early months were filled with sleepless nights and anxious hearts, but with the help of friends—including Beidou, Traveler, and even Yae Miko—Haruki eventually grew into a healthy and vibrant child.

Unlike his siblings, who were often found running around the estate, Haruki was introspective and studious. From a young age, he displayed an insatiable curiosity, devouring books and scrolls that even scholars would find daunting.

When asked about his new life, Kazuha often reflected on how vastly different it was from the one he had once envisioned. There was always something to worry about, the days rarely deviated from routine, and the call of the open road still stirred within him from time to time.

Yet, as he watched you and the children, he knew he wouldn’t trade this life for anything. The love he shared with you, the joy of raising a family, and the warmth of a home filled with laughter and belonging—this was the greatest adventure of all.

For Kazuha, every day with you was a journey worth taking, and there was no horizon more beautiful than the one he shared with you by his side.

a/n: i must confess that i have this plot on my drafts for almost two years now but i’ve never found will enough on myself to sit down and write it. nevertheless, i’m thankful for my mind to remind me of this plot and make me re-write new ideas.

those who knows me, or not, must’ve know that i really do love parenting, domestic and pregnancy universe so not so often i caught myself writing about it. it’s so relaxing and enjoyable to picture these guys as dad idk.

i hope you’ve liked it so far. i would like to share more about this headcanon in the future, so let me know if you want to learn more about the kaedehara clan. thank you so much, bye!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #dad kazuha #kaedehara clan #genshin husbands au #genshin dads au #when they're dads

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leighsartworks216 · 3 months ago

Text

Perfect First Date

Zayne x fem!Reader

Had this idea and literally could not stop thinking about it

Warnings: fluff, blind date, first date, kissing

Word Count: 2,280

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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A steady drizzle paints the world outside in a blur of shadows and diffused lights. Traffic lights are reflected on the wet pavement below, blending with the orange and white headlights of cars. People pass by the window, covering themselves with umbrellas or their jackets. A few didn’t bother trying to do anything to hide from the onslaught of water. You didn’t bring an umbrella. The thought of leaving now and having to walk through the rain like that sours your mood even further.

A waitress politely clears her throat. “Would you like to order now?” She gives you a pitying look, her smile tinged with sympathy.

You force one of your own in return. “Just a few more minutes, please.”

She nods and walks away. You just know she’s in the kitchen talking about you with the chefs and other wait staff. “She’s been waiting for an hour for her date. He’s never gonna show up! Poor thing.”

You sigh, leaning against your arms on the table. How are you gonna tell Tara about this? She was so excited to set you up on this date, gushing about how perfect you two would be together if you just gave it a shot. Knowing he never showed up would break her heart - maybe even more than it broke yours.

A familiar voice says your name. When you look up, you’re surprised.

“Zayne? What are you doing here?”

“My shift just ended. I thought this would be a nice place to get dinner before I head home.” He tilts his head toward the empty seat across from you. You nod immediately, just glad for the company after the time you’ve had. Once he sits, he takes a moment to look you up and down. “You look lovely tonight.”

You nervously pick at the corner of your cloth napkin with a polite half-smile. “Ah, thank you. Tara set me up on a date, but…”

He frowns. Before he can say anything, though, the same waitress from before comes over. She seems more upbeat. She must think this is your date, finally showing up after making you wait for so long. “Welcome! Can I get you anything to drink, sir?”

“Just water, thank you,” Zayne answers.

“Of course! Give me a moment and I’ll be back with a second menu for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” You smile reassuringly at her, having clearly startled her from her usual script. “He can borrow mine.”

She smiles and skips off back to the kitchen. Zayne grins slightly as you push the folding menu toward him. “Already know what you want to order?”

You huff a mirthless laugh, looking out the window again to avoid that look in his eyes as you say, “I’ve practically got the whole thing memorized. There’s a ‘Build Your Own Platter’ special on the second page.”

He turns the page over and, sure enough, the highlighted special greets him. “How long have you been waiting?” His voice is soft, like he’s worried about your answer.

You reach over the table for his hand. He raises an eyebrow, but he lets you take it without fuss. You turn his wrist until you can read his watch. “Uhh, almost an hour.” You let him go.

“Isn’t it common practice to leave after no later than 30 minutes have passed if the date doesn’t show up?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t really do this sort of thing.” You look at him again. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. It hasn’t since he got here. He notices right away. “And it started to rain, so…”

“So you thought he may have gotten caught up in the weather.”

“And I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

He gives you a pointed look. “You didn’t think to look at the weather for tonight? Despite knowing you would be going on a date?”

“Shush. I didn’t think about it.”

The waitress sets down a cup of water in front of Zayne. A lemon wedge is neatly tucked onto the rim. “Are you ready to order?”

Zayne gestures for you to order first. You recite the order you’ve had memorized this whole time, and she writes it down on a little pad of paper. Then he orders (not the Build Your Own Platter special), passing the menu to the waitress once she’s finished writing. She holds it to her chest and looks between the two of you. “Will you be paying separately or together?”

“Together-”

“Separately-”

You blink at Zayne, who smiles placatingly in return. “Together. It’ll be my treat.”

She leaves before you can defend paying separately. You shake your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Please. I see it as my duty to ensure you know how a man should treat you on a date.”

Your cheeks flush. You can’t quite meet his eyes as you tease, “You were also technically an hour late, then.”

“Hm,” he agrees. He picks up a card held in a twisted metal stand and holds it out to you. It contains a brief listing of ice cream sundaes, cheesecakes, molten lava cakes and more. “Would dessert make up for my tardiness?”

You smile. It finally reaches your eyes as you take the card from him. “It just might.”

As you talk about everything and nothing, the disappointment begins to ebb from your shoulders. Once the food arrives, it disappears entirely. For as long as you waited, the food was definitely worth it.

You forget about the rain, the guy that stood you up, and having to tell Tara what happened. The world seems to shrink to just this restaurant. Just this table.

Zayne may appear to be emotionless and cold to some, but not to you. You know him better than that. You see every slight smile that he looks away to try to hide. You see the playfulness in his eyes as you tease each other. You see him relax into the atmosphere you’ve created. You see the concern that sharpens his eyes when he scolds you for not taking care of yourself. You see… him.

It’s probably just because you two have been going to restaurants together more frequently in the last couple months, you think. Somehow, you both got into the habit of recommending places to each other - sweets shops, diners, cafes, bakeries, and restaurants like this. At first, you’d just tell each other about the place, saying they should visit. But then it became lunch breaks when he needed to be pulled away from work to take care of himself, and dinner when you needed to be convinced to stop working overtime.

It feels natural, sitting across from him and sharing a good meal. You try not to dwell on that thought for too long.

True to his word, Zayne pays for dinner.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise. “We can get lunch tomorrow. I’ll pay.”

He grins, knowing just how futile it is to argue with you. He has no choice but to agree. Still, he shakes his head slightly. “I never thought I’d be threatened with being treated to lunch.”

He holds the front door open for you, picking up his umbrella from the communal holder. The world seems to grow once more as you look out into the rain. You don’t have anything to protect yourself from it. You didn’t even think to bring a jacket.

Zayne steps halfway out from under the awning, his see-through umbrella open above him as he holds a hand out to you. “Come on.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“You said so yourself that you didn’t bring an umbrella. I’ll drive you home.”

“You really don’t have to. You’ve done so much already!”

He gives you a look. “All I did was chat with you and pay for dinner. Besides,” he takes your hand, gently tugging you under the umbrella with him, “I said I would show you how you should be treated on a date. Bringing you home in the rain falls safely under my duties.”

You sigh, but you don’t argue anymore. You don’t really want to walk through the rain anyway. You hold onto his arm as he leads you to the parking lot. “Should I make this up to you, too?” you tease. “Take you for a drive on my motorcycle?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

You laugh. He smiles at the sound.

The drive is quiet, but not unpleasantly so. Rain pats down on the roof and windows of the car, swept away by the windshield wipers. It’s heavier now, beating down in cold sheets. If you’d been walking home, you would’ve been soaked through to the bone just one street from the restaurant.

He pulls up to the curb and gets out first with his umbrella. Then, he rounds the car to your side and opens the door, holding the umbrella over you more than he does himself. A few drops of rain on his coat doesn’t make a difference to him.

You stick close by as he walks you to the door. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

“Of course. Now, get inside before you catch a cold.”

You smile at him and unlock the door with your thumbprint. “Goodnight, Zayne. I had fun.”

“I’m glad to have been a suitable replacement for your date tonight,” he remarks, a teasing edge to his words. He smiles. “Goodnight… I had fun, too.”

Something foreign and extremely familiar flutters in your chest at the look in his eyes. The way they look at you, the softness in his eyes that seems to take away years of exhausting surgeries and heartaches - it almost takes your breath away. The worst part is that you’ve seen him look at you this way before. Several times.

You can’t find anything else to say as you let yourself inside and gently close the door behind you.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the painted wood like it holds all the answers to your swirling thoughts. Your hand is still on the knob. You fear it may be too late when you’ve made your decision.

You swing open the door. Zayne has already walked down the front steps. He’s almost to his car. Your heart lurches as you rush into the rain after him.

The storm hasn’t let up since you arrived. The cold water that attacked his car on the way here now soaks your hair, your clothes, your skin. A shiver runs through you at first, quickly overshadowed by the fear of letting him go.

“Zayne!”

He turns around. That softness from before is replaced with concern as he hurries to meet you halfway to cover you with the umbrella. “Are you trying to get sick?”

“No, I…” God, you feel a bit stupid. But to back out now would be even worse. Your heart sits like a lump in your throat as you say, “It’s common practice to kiss your date when you say goodbye.”

The furrow in his brow eases up. You see his eyes flicker to your mouth briefly. “Is it?” he almost whispers.

You nod. “And if it’s your job to show me how I should be treated on a date…” You’re worried he can hear your heart. It’s beating so hard, pounding in your ears and blocking out the sound of the rain.

Zayne breathes a quiet laugh, but he nods. “You’re right. I apologize for my negligence. Allow me to make it up to you.”

Holding the umbrella steady, he cups your cheek with his free hand. His thumb brushes away a trail of water that comes from the hair sticking to your face. His eyes linger on your lips as he leans down. Even in this lighting, you can see the way his ears burn with blush. You’re certain you’re not doing much better.

His breath ghosting over your mouth is intoxicating, but the gentle press of his lips to yours is addicting. You grab onto his coat with wet fingers, slowly pulling him in closer as you deepen the kiss. He sighs. You think this is heaven.

He pulls away for air, before turning his head to the other side and kissing you again. And again. And again. You’ve far surpassed what’s appropriate for a first date kiss. But, is this really your first date together?

When he finally does pull away, his breath trembles slightly, like he’s overcome by the emotions shifting around in his chest cavity. You look up at him and he has to fight the urge to kiss you again. He huffs a soft laugh as he brushes the stuck strands of hair from your face. “I’d be a poor date if I let you stay in the rain like this any longer.”

You smile fondly. “You’re always worried about me.”

“Mhm.” He kisses your forehead, as though it could possibly release the weight of the love strangling his heart. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

His hand rests on your lower back as he leads to your home once again. There’s a slight skip in both of your steps, a lovestruck sort of eagerness that guides you to your door. You unlock it again, but you turn to him this time, tugging on his jacket again.

“Stay.”

He turns his face away briefly, cheeks flushing. “That’s hardly appropriate for a first date.”

You laugh. “We don’t have to do anything. I just… want you to stay.”

He considers it for a moment. His eyes flicker across your face, searching for signs of an oncoming cold without even realizing it. When they meet yours again, he nods. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #fem reader #x fem reader

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https-florals · 9 months ago

Text

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck.

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.”

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside.

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!”

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three).

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it.

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing.

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that.

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,”

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water.

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line.

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp.

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support.

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds.

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it.

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands.

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger.

It’s probably his favorite possession.

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand.

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue.

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his.

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash.

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand.

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine.

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head.

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut

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