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aurumalatus · 25 days ago

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𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟕]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. thank you all for waiting during my hiatus <3 turnfire is back, probably a bit sporadic for updates! still, i hope you'll join me in seeing the story through until the end! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗦

In the week that you’re apart, Kinich dreams of you five times.

It’s a welcome respite from the constant nightmares he’d been experiencing. They’d grown more frequent since your injury, lying in wait in the dead of night. He’d found himself trapped by them, thrown to a hellish dreamscape that saw you meeting your end over and over again. It always ended with the sight of your body, bloody and broken.

And he was always too weak to save you.

But since the contract, Kinich finds new power thrumming through his veins. He’d thought he was strong before, but this is different. He wonders if this is how it must feel to hold a Vision, to be one of the Archon’s chosen. Being afforded a power like that means protection and stability, however steep the price may be. And sure, his body is a high price.

But when he remembers your screams of pain and the tears running rivers down your cheeks, he really can’t bring himself to regret this deal at all.

Still, Ajaw’s power brings its own share of consequences, like actually dealing with Ajaw. Truthfully, he’s reluctant to let the Dragonlord anywhere near you—he tends to run his mouth, and he doesn’t want him saying anything unnecessary in your presence.

He isn’t a great companion, not like you—he gets on Kinich’s nerves, both intentionally and unintentionally. But there is something to be gained from a power as great as his, a power that even Kinich is forced to recognize.

The first dream is nothing special. There’s no rhyme or reason to it; he dreams of running through the meadow with you, flower petals bursting and floating through the air. His next dream is similar, though this time it’s in the forest, river rushing alongside you. He dreams of the late nights you spend talking, of the dinners you’ve shared over candlelight, of your whispers under the stars. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s you.

It’s always, always you.

So, if sacrifice must be had, let it be his.

Ajaw seems to realize it too, the weight of the bond they have forged. Ecstatic as he is to take Kinich’s body as his own, he knows that most people wouldn’t make such a deal so easily. He tries to question it a few times, wondering who this “special mortal” could be, wondering why Kinich would need his “awesome powers” to protect them. Kinich doesn’t care to answer—no one needs to know how he feels about you except you.

And, by the time he makes it back to your shared home, he’ll make sure that you know too.

He has the man in the ruins to thank for that oath. After he’d escaped the darkness, he’d made a small grave for the others who had embarked on that journey with him. He hadn’t had much onhand, but he tried—a small pile of stones, stacked precariously until they were about his height. Though he hadn’t known the other men well, he feels a sort of duty to their memory. After all, he had fought by their side, and no one deserves to die alone.

And now, he has the means to protect you, and to make sure that you never have to cry again.

On the seventh day, Kinich raises his head to the sky, one hand shielding his eyes as he gauges the position of the sun. If he starts the journey now, he could be by your side again by nightfall. Something flutters in his chest at the thought of seeing you, and part of him feels like he really can’t wait any longer.

“Ajaw,” he calls. The dragon is resting nearby, picking berries off of plants and scarfing them down. “We’re going home.”

He walks, and doesn’t wait to see if the dragon is following him. He’ll be able to tell based on the complaints that Ajaw is constantly spewing—he’d learned quickly how to phase them out of his mind.

“Your house?” Ajaw moans, still smeared with the juice of a Quenapa Berry. “What is it, a pathetic cave on the side of the mountain? Or maybe a cardboard box on the side of the road?”

Kinich rolls his eyes. “It’s a real house, and you’ll be lucky if I even let you inside. Now pick up the pace.”

The wind is good today, he notes, ideal for grappling. Ajaw scoffs, reluctantly following alongside his partner.

“What are you in such a rush for anyway? Mortals get excited over the smallest things.”

Your smiling face flashes in Kinich’s mind. He sighs.

“Just feeling a bit homesick.”

“I’m home.”

Kinich’s voice floats languidly through your quiet house, comforting familiarity seeping into his bones. Something delicious is cooking—the smell of rich meat and spices wafts through the air.

On the table, there’s a loaf of fresh bread, a single slice spread with your favorite jam. Fresh fruit overflows from the basket on the counter, shiny skin promising ripeness. One of his old shirts is draped over the arm of the couch, sewing needle and thread strewn across the fabric. You’d kept busy while he was gone, evidently.

Somehow, simple as it is, the sight of your home at peace is almost overwhelming. After days spent in the dark humidity of the ruins, he suddenly feels like he can finally relax, if only for a moment. He lets the bag drop from his shoulder, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

There’s no response, but Kinich can see your shoes by the door and the faint sound of splashing water—most likely, you’re in the bath. Still, Ajaw fixes him with a look of disbelief.

“Did you seriously make up an entire girl just to convince me you don’t live alone in the mountains? That’s pathetic, even for you.”

Kinich fights the urge to stomp the small dragon into the ground, opting to start organizing his things instead. Kneeling down, he unzips his bag, starting to pull out various trinkets and pouches of Mora.

“She is real, she’s just in the bath. Try not to be so annoying when she comes out, or I’ll punch you out.”

Ajaw turns red in irritation. “Just try it, servant! And you’ll see just what it means to be a Dragonlord—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

He perks up immediately at the chime of your voice, excitement palpable in your words. There’s a scuffle behind the door—you’re rushing to change and greet him, he thinks, face warm. Even Ajaw seems to notice his change in demeanor, based on his mocking chuckle.

“Oh, how sweet. Your little girlfriend has been waiting for you.”

Kinich doesn’t even have time to retort, because the bathroom door flies open and you come bursting forth, wide grin splitting across your face. You clear the room in only a few steps—Kinich’s eyes widen at the sheer speed—and then you’re collapsing into his arms with all the force of a raging bull.

He catches you anyway, heart nearly pounding out of his chest at the proximity, at the still-damp heat of your skin, at the way your arms wrap around him so tightly.

Spring blooms around him as he holds you closer.

“I missed you,” you admit quietly. Your breath is warm against his neck, but the feeling is pleasant all the same.

“I missed you too.”

After a moment, he holds you at arms-length, gauging the state of you. Your bandages are a clean, pristine white, and there’s less of them than when he left—your wound must have healed considerably.

Noticing his gaze, you smile, stretching your arms wide.

“I’m a lot better now,” you assure him. “We can start going on jobs together again soon!”

It’s a true relief to see you healthy and happy again. Though the guilt will likely never leave him, he wants to burden you as little as possible.

“That’s good,” he replies, thumbing over your cheek. His breath hitches when you lean happily into his touch. “I’ll look for some good commissions next time I go to the outpost.”

Silently, he notes that the two of you will have to take some simpler ones first, at least while you’re still healing completely. And maybe for the time being, while he gets used to Ajaw’s power—he can’t risk hurting you again.

Someone clears their throat obnoxiously, and Kinich finally remembers that he hadn’t returned home alone.

Brows furrowed, you peek over Kinich’s shoulder to see the small, pixelated dragon floating there. He has an impatient expression on his face, like he can’t stand the lack of attention.

“Kin,” you whisper, “I think something followed you home.”

“I am not something,” Ajaw roars, “I am the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw, the bearer of power that strikes fear into nations and gods, the pinnacle of strength and—”

“I found him in a cave,” Kinich interrupts dryly. “And now he won’t stop talking.”

Despite the bold introduction, you don’t seem intimidated by Ajaw at all—you’re peering over him curiously, poking at his tail and flicking at his feet. He growls in reply, already full of protest.

“It’s…floating,” you observe, in awe.

“It? You dare refer to the Almighty Dragonlord as an it? I oughta burn you to ash right here!”

Kinich shoves Ajaw aside, a sour expression on his face. Admittedly, he’s irritated at your reunion being interrupted.

“Try anything against her and see what happens.”

Ajaw grumbles some curses, but neither of you pay him any mind—you’re too overjoyed that Kinich is home, and Kinich is just happy to be in your presence.

“I made some stew for dinner,” you announce, practically skipping over to the stove. There’s a pot already boiling there—that must’ve been what he smelled earlier. “Your favorite. Ajaw—sorry, Almighty Dragonlord can eat too if he wants.”

When you bring it over to the table, beckoning him over, Ajaw huffs at his side.

“If she’s inviting me to dine, maybe she isn’t so bad after all,” he comments haughtily, and Kinich resists the urge to roll his eyes. Leave it to Ajaw to change his opinion of you on a dime. Instead of arguing with the impossible dragon, he moves to clean up the rest of his things.

Ajaw pounces on the bread right away, tearing it to crumbs. It doesn’t seem to bother you, based on the way you calmly hum as you stir the stew. Really, it doesn’t seem like anything could ruin your mood at this point, and that thought makes Kinich smile in turn.

“If you’re planning on keeping him like a pet,” you say as you place three bowls of stew on the table, eyes flicking between him and Ajaw, “something tells me he won’t be able to learn many tricks.”

Luckily for you both, Ajaw is too busy scarfing down his food to hear. Kinich shakes his head, a half-smile on his lips.

“Not likely. We made a contract, actually.”

Your head tilts in curiosity as you take your seat. “Really? What kind?”

It’s not uncommon for Kinich to make deals—it’s what he’s good at, and he’s even better at following through. So it comes as no surprise to you that it would be the nature of his relationship with Ajaw. Still, you don’t expect him to continue:

“My body, for his power.”

A sharp gasp slips between your lips.

When he turns to face you, your smile falters at the edges, a withering bloom.

“You…what?”

“It was a fair trade,” he explains calmly, checking his grappling hook. There’s a chip in the metal, he notes grimly, evidence of its overuse. “In exchange for my body after death, I get to—”

The clattering sound of your chair tipping to the floor has Kinich flinching, one hand outstretched instinctually toward you. When he looks up, your expression is like shattered glass—you’re clutching your stomach like someone’s just punched you.

“In exchange? For you?” Your words thin at the end, dying halfway up your throat. The sound makes Kinich’s heart twist. “Are you joking?”

It’s as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Though he’d expected your surprise, he hadn’t expected the despair, the anger that burns in your irises.

“I promise you, it was fair,” Kinich reiterates. “As annoying as he is, Ajaw does have a lot of useful power.”

“But he’s taking your body,” you say. Each word comes out almost robotically. “That’s supposed to be fair?”

Hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. You shrink away, directly onto your fallen chair—you stumble and fall, a pained expression painting your features. Even as quick as he is to rush to your side, Kinich can’t help but curse himself internally.

Somehow, no matter what he does, he hurts you every time.

You recover quickly, climbing to your feet, and Ajaw merely watches, uncharacteristically silent. Kinich doesn’t really care what he thinks anyway—he’s far more focused on the glassy tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“It’s only once I die,” he assures you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You flinch at the feeling, eyes wide. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll be stronger.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need that thing’s power, Kin. Give it back, we’ll be fine.”

From his place at the table, Ajaw sneers.

“How ungrateful! You have no idea how many humans would scramble and die for the chance to use a sliver of my—”

“Ajaw,” Kinich breathes, a warning, stare never leaving yours. “Get out.”

Ajaw huffs. “Do you even hear her? She’s being totally unreasonable—”

“Ajaw.” Kinich grits his teeth until it’s practically audible, tone laced with frost. “Get. Out.”

The tension is so razor-sharp that even the Almighty Dragonlord slinks out the door, though he grumbles as he goes. You don’t seem to care either way, instead scrubbing at the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Silence falls, a blanket of ice over the warmth of your home.

He hates it. He hates the way it reminds him of his parents, of the countless fights that occurred here, and he hates the broken sheen in your eyes when you look at him. It’s a far cry from your previous brightness.

“Please, Kin,” you plead, a near-whisper, “please, please give his power back to him.”

You grasp at his arms, tracing the tattoos etched into the skin there, like you’re trying to remind yourself that he’s still here. Small cuts litter his skin, evidence of the journey he’d endured before returning to you, and your frown deepens.

“I can’t,” he replies. “The contract is done.”

His words sink deep into your mind, a stone in water, the weight of what he’s done slowly dawning on you. He can see it in your eyes—the fear that takes root. The fear that one day, he’ll no longer be by your side.

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, moving toward the couch. Kinich follows.

“You have to understand,” he starts, almost begging, even as you walk away, “I only wanted to be stronger for you. I don’t want you to get hurt again—”

When you whirl on him, your eyes are burning.

“So it’s because of me? Because I got hurt?”

And really, it was, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t because of you, or any sort of perceived weakness of yours. If anything, Kinich thinks, it was his own that brought him this far—his own selfish desires for you.

“It’s not like that,” he murmurs, reaching for you. His heart pangs when you flinch away from his touch—you’ve never done that before in his life. “I’m stronger now. I can protect you now—”

“I never wanted you to protect me, Kinich!”

The pure volume of your voice seems to shake the walls of the house, and Kinich feels like it’s all crumbling down around him. He’s never seen you like this—nearly quivering with anger and disappointment, tears running endlessly down your cheeks.

You can’t seem to decide where to look, but your gaze lands on his all the same. He almost wishes it didn’t—he can’t take the sorrow in your eyes.

“I’ve been learning on my own. I want to fight with you. I don’t want you to protect me, or hide me away, or sacrifice anything more for me. I just wanted to be with you!”

“We can still be together, it’s just—”

You gesture wildly outside, to where Ajaw is presumably waiting.

“Just that your life is tied to this…this thing now, and now not even your own body belongs to you. Do you realize how insane that is, Kin?”

And he wants to tell you that it’s not about Ajaw at all, it’s about you. It’s the fact that he’s always belonged to you, he wants to belong to you, and being strong is the only way he knows how to do that. He thinks of his mother, of the price of her smile—he would pay any price to see yours.

He wants to tell you that he’d thought of you every day he was away, perhaps every moment. He wants to tell you what he promised himself back in the ruins.

But he can’t seem to move an inch. He should say something, he knows. Comfort you in some way. All he can do is watch as you collapse onto the couch, old and fraying, stare fixed blankly to the wall.

And when he remembers the sight of your blood seeping through your shirt, he still can’t bring himself to regret this.

You hold your face in your hands. “We…we were happy, Kinich. Wasn’t that enough?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You don’t answer.

And, as always, Kinich drowns in the realization that he’d hurt you again. His father’s voice echoes in his mind.

It’s your fucking fault. This is all your fault.

The deal had been fair, at least to him, and he was rarely wrong in these things. He’d gained a power to protect you. With this newfound strength, you’d have no reason to worry again.

So why did it feel like everything was falling apart?

He’s never been good at these things—at feelings, at vocalizing them—but all he’s ever wanted was to be what you needed. But someone like him isn’t worthy of your light.

He really, really wants to be.

Kinich slinks to your side, careful as he kneels before you. Your head is still hung, tears dripping into your lap. He tries not to let the sorrow on your face deter him, at least for now—you deserve to hear what he’s been thinking all along.

Even if it’s too little, too late, he has to tell you.

His fingertips brush against your knee first, apologetic. For now, you don’t push him away. He finds comfort in that, somehow. Even when everything the two of you have built until now lies on the precipice, the mere sensation of your warmth is enough to calm him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first,” he whispers, letting his hand drift toward yours.

You don’t reply, which makes Kinich think that you’re simply waiting to hear what he has to say. A deep breath fills his lungs, slow, the buildup of everything he’s longed to communicate all these years.

Outside, the sun is falling to rest, leaving shards of fading golden light in its wake. Kinich watches its luminescence slip over your face, slow and winding.

“I thought you were going to die back then. And it would’ve been all my fault.”

Even suggesting the possibility has something in his chest writhing and twisting, a chill settling in his bones. He’s lost too much until now, and he’s always told himself he could move past it. And yet, he doesn’t think he could ever stomach losing you.

“I couldn’t let that happen again,” he finishes quietly.

He can practically hear the gears turning in your head as you absorb his words. But your hand doesn’t leave his, and he holds steadfast to that feeling.

A sigh escapes your lips.

“And I can’t let Ajaw have you, even after death. I told you I would always be by your side, Kin, and I wish you would trust me to do that on my own.”

His eyes widen, and he’s about to reply when—

A knock echoes at your front door.

You sniffle once, then twice, gathering yourself. Kinich moves to stop you—he’s sure it’s just Ajaw getting impatient during his timeout.

“It’s not Ajaw,” you assert, practically reading his mind. “It’s the couriers.”

The couriers? They don’t come here often—that fact hasn’t changed since his parents lived in his house. A seed of unease plants itself in his stomach.

“They’ve been looking for you,” you sigh. Before you can take another step, his fingers wrap tight around your wrist, rooting you in place.

“Why? What do they want with me?”

The look in your eyes is far away, falling upon the lukewarm stew on the table. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, all of it. Instead, your lip quivers as you admit:

“The Wayob called for you. You’ve inherited an Ancient Name.”

And, despite all his efforts, Kinich feels the distance between you growing wider and wider.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #genshin impact #kinich #genshin impact imagines #kinich x you #adeptus ink

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prettyfilmz · 20 days ago

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CHAIN REACTION PT. 2 • JEY USO

author's note: now that the coast (iykyk) is clear, let's get into this part two😌. shoutout to jey uso's fine ass for spoiling me with content of him wearing my chain 3-4 times this past week, the reunion is about to go craaazy. enjoy reading, my loves💗

synopsis: in which jey makes it clear to nyx that he don't play when it comes to her. period.

tags: 18+ (MDNI), jey uso x black fem oc, fluff overload, soft and sensual sex, oral (fem receiving), love bites, drinking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, pet names (baby girl, mama, baby.), they're sooo in loveeeee, body worship, established relationship at the end, this is super cute y'all trust me.

word count: 4.2k words (she's a big oneeee)

The soft hum of the private car made for a relaxing ride, but Nyx couldn’t stop fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She was nervous. Not just the kind of nervous you get before meeting someone. You don’t get this nervous after you’ve already had them inside you, after you’ve had your body intimately ruined for future partners and spent hours discovering every hidden trick they had to make you see stars. This was different.

It had been five months since that night in the hotel. The night she found herself under Jey, wrapped up in his passion, losing herself to the slow grind of his hips and the possessive rasp of his voice calling her ‘baby girl’ like it was her name. They’d kept in touch—texting, FaceTiming, occasionally talking late into the night when he wasn’t traveling for shows. Their conversations had grown deeper, more personal, more intimate, until Nyx realized she had gone and done the one thing she promised herself she wouldn’t: caught feelings.

And now, sitting in the back of a blacked-out SUV, dressed to the nines in a black satin slip dress that hugged her thick, curvy frame in all the right ways, she was on her way to meet him again. In California. For the Netflix premiere of RAW.

Her phone buzzed in her lap, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Jey.

Jey: Almost there? Can’t wait to see you, baby girl. I know you lookin’ fine as hell right now.

Nyx felt a wave of heat rush to her chest. He had such a way with words, making her feel like the most important person in the world with just a few taps on his phone.

Nyx: Almost there. You sure you’re ready to deal with me at a premiere?

The reply came instantly.

Jey: Been ready since the second I met you.

Her stomach flipped. The car pulled to a stop in front of the hotel, a luxurious high-rise that towered over the city with its sleek architecture and golden-lit windows. Nyx gathered her small clutch, smoothed out her dress, and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement.

As soon as she walked into the lobby, she spotted him.

Jey was leaning against the concierge desk, looking like sin wrapped in caramel skin and tattoos. He was dressed sharp in a black jacket accompanied with an unzipped hoodie underneath which showcased the skin of his torso he decided to not put a shirt over. The "YEET" chain she’d made him sparkled under the crystal chandelier lights. When his brown eyes found on hers, his smirk grew slow and lazy, like he had just found exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath as she approached, his gaze dragging over her like a caress. “You tryin’ to get me in trouble tonight, mama?”

Nyx laughed, a little shy under his flirtatious gaze. “Me? You’re the one standing here shirtless.”

He grinned, closing the distance between them to pull her into a hug. His cologne, woody with a hint of vanilla, invaded her senses, and she melted into him. His hands settled on her waist, giving her a squeeze as he pulled back to look at her.

“You good?” he asked, voice softer now. “Nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted, biting her lip. “It’s just… a lot. You didn’t have to fly me out and do all this.”

He tilted her chin up, making her meet his eyes. “I wanted to. I told you—this ain’t just a hookup, Nyx. You’re more than that. And tonight? You’re with me. Don’t ever doubt that, ‘aight?”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she nodded, smiling shyly.

“Good,” he said, his grin widening. “Now let’s go before Paul gets on my ass about being late.”

♡

The premiere was a whirlwind of cameras, interviews, and flashing lights, but the entire night, Jey had never let Nyx out of his sight. Once his match finished and his post-match interview was underway, he immediately came and found her. His hand stayed on the small of her back, his thumb brushing lazy circles against her skin through the fabric of her dress.

When fellow wrestlers including his brother Jimmy and his wife Trinity, he didn’t hesitate to introduce her as “This is my girl, Nyx,” with a pride that left her both flustered and giddy. Jimmy didn’t hesitate to make her feel welcome and got a few laughs out of her, and Trinity greeted her with a hug and exchanged numbers which marks the start of a blossoming friendship.

Now, hours later, they were back in his suite, Nyx stood by the window, sipping the last of her champagne.

He was watching her. She could feel it in the way the heat of his gaze swept over her curves, lingering on the slit of her dress that revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her thick thighs.

“Why you all the way over there, baby girl?” Jey asked, his voice low but had a rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Nyx turned to face him, the champagne in her system gave her a warmth that spread through her chest, but it didn’t stop the butterflies that had been fluttering in her stomach since the moment she saw him tonight.

“Maybe I like the view from over here,” she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Jey smirked, setting his glass down on the counter. “Yeah? I think I like this view a little better, mama.”

He began closing the space between them, his slow, deliberate strides making her heart race. The way his eyes locked onto hers had her forgetting how to breathe. It was the kind of gaze that saw right through every wall she tried to put up, that made her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what you do to me, Nyx.”

Her breath hitched at the way he said her name, low and raspy, like a sacred prayer. She bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. “What am I doing to you?”

He chuckled softly, his hand finally coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed along her jawline, sending sparks shooting through her body. “Makin’ it real hard for me to behave.”

Nyx leaned into his touch, her voice barely above a whisper. “Who said I want you to behave?”

That was all it took. Jey closed the remaining distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft but full of meaning. He kissed her like she was something to be savored, his hand sliding down to rest on her waist, pulling her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between them.

She melted into him, her hands finding their way to his chest. The feel of his warmth beneath her palms, the steady beat of his heart, sent a thrill through her. His lips moved against hers with a slow, deliberate rhythm, teasing and coaxing her until she was breathless.

“You taste so damn sweet,” he murmured against her lips. Nyx giggled softly, “It’s probably the champagne.”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head as he kissed the corner of her mouth. “That’s all you, baby girl.”

His lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, pressing soft kisses to her skin. He nipped gently at the spot just below her ear, earning a soft gasp from her that made him grin.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Yes,” she breathed, tilting her head to give him better access.

“Good,” he murmured, his hands sliding down to her hips. He tugged her closer, his thigh pressing between hers, and the friction sent a jolt of heat through her body.

“Jey,” she whimpered, her hands clutching at his shirt.

“I got you, mama,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear. “You know I’m gonna take care of you tonight, right?”

She nodded, her heart racing. “I know.”

His grin widened, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Good. ‘Cause I’m gon’ take my time with you this time.”

Jey laid her down on the plush hotel bed like she was something fragile, something to be handled with care. He knelt over her, his hands braced on either side of her, and took a moment to just look at her.

“Can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he said softly.

Nyx’s cheeks flushed, and she turned her head shyly, but Jey wasn’t having it. “Uh-uh, baby girl. Don’t hide from me.”

He cupped her cheek, turning her face back to his. “You hear me? You’re beautiful. All of you.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she reached up to brush her fingers through his hair. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jey leaned down, pressing his lips to hers once again. His hands roamed her body, sliding over her curves like he couldn’t get enough of her. When he pulled back, he grinned down at her, his fingers playing with the strap of her dress.

“This gotta go,” he said, his voice teasing.

Nyx giggled, the sound soft and bubbly as she nodded. “Okay.”

He slid the straps down her shoulders, taking his time peeling the satin from her body. His eyes darkened as he revealed more of her, his hands brushing over her soft skin.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that left her moaning softly into his mouth. His hands roamed her body like he couldn’t get enough of her tracing the curve of her waist, gripping her hips, sliding down to cup her thick thighs.

“You’re so soft, mama,” he murmured against her lips. “I could touch you all night.”

Nyx’s cheeks flushed, her shyness creeping in again despite how exposed she already was. She felt like she was being seen in a way she never had before, like Jey wasn’t just looking at her body but at her and all the emotions that she tried to hide.

“You’re just sayin’ that,” she whispered, trying to deflect the intensity of his gaze.

Jey shook his head, his hand sliding up to cradle her cheek. “Nah, baby girl. I mean every word. You’re so damn beautiful.”

Her heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice, and before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her again, his lips moving against hers with a slowness that felt deliberate, almost teasing.

He kissed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he left love bites in his wake. Red, purplish marks she knew she’d have to conceal with makeup tomorrow. When he reached her breasts, he took his time, his lips and tongue exploring her soft skin until her back arched off the bed and her fingers tangled in his hair.

“Jey,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with need.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, his voice low and teasing as he kissed the underside of her breast.

“I need you,” she breathed, her hands tightening in his hair.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against her skin. “You got me, mama. I’m right here…ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

But still, he didn’t rush. His hands slid down her body, gripping her thighs and spreading them gently. The way he looked at her like she was something precious, something he wanted to take his time with made her heart race.

“I almost forgot how pretty your pussy is,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her slick folds. “Look at you, baby girl. Already so wet for me.”

Nyx whimpered, her thighs trembling as he slid a finger inside her, his touch slow and deliberate. “Jey,” she gasped, her hips bucking against his hand.

“I know, mama,” he said softly, his lips brushing against her inner thigh. “I got you.”

He took his time, building her up slowly, his fingers curling inside her just right while his thumb worked lazy circles over her clit. When he finally leaned in and pressed his tongue against her, she cried out, her back arching off the bed.

“Shit,” she whimpered, her hands clutching at the sheets.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her, his voice vibrating through her. “Let it out. Lemme hear you.”

Jey worked her like it was second nature, his tongue and fingers driving her higher and higher until the pleasure was almost unbearable. When she came, it was with a broken cry, her body trembling as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her.

But he wasn’t done.

“Shhh,” he murmured, kissing his way back up her body as she tried to catch her breath. “I got you, baby girl. You want more?”

She whimpered softly, her body still trembling from her release, but Jey didn’t stop. His lips found hers again, kissing her softly as he slid his fingers inside her once more. The overstimulation made her squirm, but he held her steady, his free hand gripping her thigh.

“You’re so fuckin’ good for me,” he murmured against her lips. “So perfect, baby girl. That’s my good girl.”

The praise sent a fresh wave of heat through her, and she whimpered, her hips grinding against his hand as he brought her to the edge again.

Jey helped her ride out the aftershocks of her second orgasm, his lips soft and tender against the skin of her shoulder blade.

Nyx laid there, her body trembling with the remnants of her earlier releases. Her lips parted as she caught her breath, her thighs still slightly trembling from the way his mouth had just worshiped her.

Jey hovered above her, taking his time, his dark, hungry eyes scanning every inch of her like she was a piece of art carefully crafted just for him. His lips curved into a lopsided, boyish grin, but his voice was thick and raspy when he spoke.

"You got no idea what you do to me, baby girl," he murmured. "I’ve been dreamin’ about this for months. About you. Feelin’ you, hearin’ you, bein’ inside you again. And now that you’re here…" He let the sentence trail off, his hands sliding up her sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts. "Now that you’re here, I’m gonna take my fuckin’ time with you."

Her breath hitched as his lips found her neck, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. He lingered there, sucking gently at her pulse point until she whimpered, body shifting slightly against the bed. Her hands found their way to his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt.

Jey’s kisses moved lower, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of her chest, her stomach, the soft dips and curves of her body. He stopped at her breasts, his large hands cupped them, thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

“So fuckin’ perfect," he murmured, leaning down to take one in his mouth. His tongue swirled slowly, his lips tugging gently at her nipple, while his other hand kneaded her opposite breast.

Nyx gasped, her hands tangling in his curls as she arched into his touch. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alive under his attention.

"Jey, please," she whimpered, her voice trembling.

He released her breast with a wet pop, grinning up at her. "Please what, baby girl? Tell me what you need."

"I need you," she breathed, her thighs pressing together as her arousal grew.

He chuckled softly, kissing his way back up to her lips. "I know, mama. I know what you need. And I’m gonna give it to you. Just let me take my time."

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her toes curl. His hands gripped her hips, tugging her closer until she could feel the hard length of him pressing against her thigh through his pants.

As if sensing her anticipation, Jey pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. "Don’t worry, baby girl. I got you. I’ll take care of you."

Jey shifted, sitting back on his heels as he pulled his pants down his hips. Nyx’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of him thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip. She bit her lip, her thighs squeezing together instinctively.

“Don’t act like you ain’t seen it before, girl,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned back down to kiss her neck.

“Not acting.” she huffs playfully annoyed, her cheeks flushing.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against her ear. "Don’t be nervous, baby. You’ve already taken me before. You can handle it. You’re my good girl, remember?"

The praise made her shiver, and she nodded, her hands gripping his shoulders as he lined himself up with her entrance. He slid the tip against her folds, teasing her, gathering her wetness before slowly, slowly easing himself inside.

"Shit," he muttered, his jaw tightening as he sank into her inch by inch. "You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby girl. Grippin’ me good…goddamn.”

Nyx gasped, her nails digging into his back as he stretched her. He was big, and the slow pace only made her hyperaware of how deeply he filled her.

"Jey," she whimpered, her voice trembling.

"I know, mama," he groaned, his forehead pressing against hers as he bottomed out. "I know. You feel so damn good."

He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, his hands rubbing soothing circles into her hips. He kissed her softly, murmuring praises against her lips.

"You’re takin’ me so good, baby. Kept that pussy tight for me huh?”

His words made her moan, her walls fluttering around him as her body relaxed. Slowly, he began to move, his thrusts deep and measured, each one dragging a soft whimper from her lips.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice low and wrecked. "Just like that, baby girl. Let me take care of you."

The pace was slow but devastating, every roll of his hips sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. Nyx clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he thrust into her, the wet sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.

"You’re so fuckin’ perfect," he rasped, his lips brushing against her neck. "So good for me, baby.."

The praise pushed her closer to the edge, her thighs trembling as the tension in her belly built higher and higher. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she whimpered, her nails raking down his back.

"I’m gonna…" she gasped, her voice breaking. “Jey, I’m gonna—"

"I got you, baby," Jey said, his voice soft but commanding. “Give it to me. Cum for me, mama."

With a broken cry, she shattered around him, her walls clenching tightly as her orgasm ripped through her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her body shook with the force of it, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held onto him like a lifeline.

Jey groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, spilling into her with a low, guttural moan. He held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her as they rode out their highs together, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her into his chest as they caught their breath. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there as his hand rubbed slow, lazy circles into her back.

The room was quiet now, the faint buzz of the nightlife outside leaking into the room. The amber light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the hotel suite, highlighting the sheen of sweat glistening on their bodies as they lay tangled together in the aftermath of their passion.

Nyx rested against Jey’s chest, her head tucked just beneath his chin, her bare body pressed against his. His strong arms were wrapped around her, holding her close like she might disappear if he let go. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her ear was grounding, a reminder that this was real, that this was them.

Jey let out a deep, satisfied sigh, his large hand sliding lazily up and down her back, the weight of it soothing and protective. His fingers traced soft patterns into her skin, sending shivers down her spine despite the heat radiating off their bodies.

“You good, baby girl?” he asked softly. .

Nyx nodded, her lips curving into a soft smile against his chest. “Yeah… I’m good,” she murmured, her voice light and content.

He tilted his head down to look at her, smiling lazily. “Yeah? I didn’t go too hard on you, did I?”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and intimate, as her fingers traced absentminded circles on his chest. “No, Jey. You were… perfect.”

He smirked, his hand moving to cup her chin, tilting her face up so he could meet her eyes. “Perfect, huh?” he teased, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. “Good to know I still got it.”

Nyx rolled her eyes playfully, her fingers sliding up to toy with her chain that rested against his chest. “Don’t get cocky now,” she said, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Jey chuckled, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he studied her face. There was a softness in his gaze, something deeper than lust, something that made Nyx’s chest tighten in the best way.

“I meant what I said, you know,” he said, his tone quieter now, more serious.

Nyx blinked up at him, her brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

Jey shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at her fully. His free hand slid down to rest on her hip, his fingers curling around the soft curve there.

“About this,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers. “About you. This ain’t just a hookup for me, Nyx. I don’t want you thinkin’ that.”

Her breath hitched slightly at his words, her heart pounding in her chest. She had known, deep down, that this wasn’t just casual fling for him. He’d flown her out to California, brought her to the premiere, held her hand in public like she was someone he was proud to be with. But hearing him say it out loud made it feel more real, made it settle deep into her bones.

“I don’t think it’s just a hookup,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling in her chest.

Jey’s lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned down to press another kiss to her lips, this one softer, sweeter, as if sealing his promise to her.

“Good,” he murmured against her lips. “Because you’re mine now, baby girl. I told you, I don’t play about you.”

Nyx couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face, her fingers sliding up to ruffle his hair. “Yours, huh?”

“Damn right,” he said, his voice full of confidence. He kissed her again, slower this time, taking his time to savor the feel of her lips against his. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his soft brown eyes holding hers.

“And just so we’re clear,” he continued, his tone softer now, almost shy. “I’m takin’ you out on a real date. No cameras, no press, no crazy crowds. Jus’ me and you.”

Nyx’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Really?”

Jey nodded, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Really, mama. I’ve been waitin’ to do this right. And after tonight, I couldn’t wait no more.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “So what kind of date are we talkin’ about?” she teased, her voice light.

Jey grinned, his dimples showing as he leaned back slightly to rest on his elbow, still hovering over her. “Whatever you want, baby girl. Fancy restaurant? Done. Beach? Say less. Hell, I’ll take your pretty ass to Waffle House if they got one here.”

Nyx laughed, the sound warm and full, as she reached up to cup his cheek. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin widening. “But you like me anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t waver. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Jey’s hand slid up to rest over hers, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “You deserve to be treated right, Nyx. And I wanna be the one to do it.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice, and she leaned up to kiss him again, her arms wrapped around his neck as she poured every unspoken feeling into the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, Jey smirked down at her, his dimples deepening. “So, what do you say, baby girl? You gon’ let me take you out and do this thing right?”

Nyx pretended to think for a moment, her lips twitching into a teasing smile. “Hmm… I guess I could clear my schedule.”

Jey chuckled, leaning down to nip playfully at her bottom lip. “Keep playin’, mama. You know you’re already mine.”

She laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer. “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice full of affection. “I am.”

And for the first time in a long time, Nyx felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be: right there in Jey’s arms.

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saeun · 1 year ago

Text

the aftermath of being turned into an ex jujutsu kaisen — gojo satoru.

gojo's a man of commitment. if rounding up a ‘band’ to serenade you into taking him back is what'll do the trick, then he'll organize it.

+ extra. this is meant to be unserious dont attack me for mischaracterization n shi 😞

“we're done.”

“we are not!”

in the end, he got kicked out. due to the shame he felt by being kicked out of a house he once lived in, satoru actually leaves. don't party too soon though, he's going to come back within five hours.

the plan he had in mind was simple: go to the department store, buy some roses, a poster, led lights, a table, some chocolates, and hire a band. for this the budget will be endless.

you thought you got rid of satoru but little did you know that he still has his share of keys. with that trick up his sleeve, he unlocks the gate, sneaking in everyone and the props.

satoru wasn't able to hire a band, but he was able to get a substitute. you see, todo, inumaki, and yuuji have hidden talents. they can all play instruments and one can sing! he always knew there was a reason why he's proud of his students.

quietly, the four men set the stage that's actually your front yard. in the center holds the white table with a black satin cloth delicately placed on it. the three bouquets of roses sit beautifully on the table. some petals were picked out and carefully spotted as well. on the table's center held the chocolate and wine — your favourite wine, to be exact. the finishing touch is the led lights. they're circling the ground, illuminating it with a soft yellow glow.

at the right and left sides of the table are inumaki and yuuji. inumaki's holding a wooden guitar while yuuji holds the hand drum. todo's position is in front of the table but a little off-center. he's holding the microphone, ready to pour his heart out on the song.

the star, satoru, is the one in the center. one hand hides behind his back. it's holding another rose bouquet with hundred-dollar bills wrapped with the roses. his free hand holds his phone. as soon as the clock strikes 7:00PM, he's going to call you. everything should play out perfectly.

anxiously watching his wristwatch switch from 6:59 to 7:00, he immediately calls you. one, two, three, six rings later you answered.

“you. i forgot to block you.”

“excuse me?” satoru scoffs, “whatever, i'm not calling for that.”

“chop chop then. i don't have all night.”

“can you come outside?”

“no. i will be calling the police.”

“OH C'MON,” he whines, getting desperate. “please? after this i'll leave you alone. promise.”

“...”

yuuji painfully watches. he feels incredibly sorry for his teacher. he doesn't deserve this!

“i don't think this is going good,” yuuji whispers to the boys, moving his head side-to-side.

todo raises his fist, gesturing to the boys to have some faith. “let's put our hopes high.”

they watch satoru closely. his hand that held the phone dramatically dropped to his side. slowly, he turns his head to face the boys behind him. his face breaks their hearts. he's pouting with eyes nearing tears — a pain only males like them can understand!

before satoru can say something, the front door clicks open. as it swings open aggressively, you made yourself tonight's main star unwillingly. you were not dressed for whatever this occasion is. your front yard has been ruined, your ex is there, three of his students you've met a few times, and while they're in suits, you're in a fancy robe with fluffy indoor slippers.

your eyebrows crease together, just when did they do all of this?! maybe it's time to install cameras.

“satoru, what the fuck did you do to my—”

“shh, tonight it's just you and him,” todo cuts you off, switching the mic on and beginning his performance. inumaki tunes the guitar and starts stringing random strings in hopes that they sound good. yuuji follows by tapping a simple “dun-da-da-dun-dun” beat on the drums.

your mouth's now opened. baffled by the sight, you stood there motionless.

“i have died every day waiting for you~”

as todo sings, satoru walks up to you, cheekily smiling at your shocked expression.

you back away from him, eyebrows still furrowed at whatever's going on.

“darling, don't be afraid~”

at this lyric, satoru takes the opportunity to shove his phone back into his pocket and grab your wrist. although you attempted to wriggle free, you are no match for his strength. gently, he pulls you into the yard.

both your eyes lock on each other. you search his eyes for emotions, he searches yours for any signs of longing. it's not there, he thinks. he feels a pinch in his heart, but it won't stop him. sending you a wink, he pulls you closer to the table.

“i have loved you for a thousand years (ooh)~”

“seriously, what's all this bullshit?!” you whisper-yelled at him, using your other hand to point at the table.

satoru simply shrugs.

“i'll love you for a thou-sand more (ooh, yeah)~”

todo ends his singing, clapping along with the other two to end the performance. it was the most touching thing he's ever done besides gifting yuuji and his idol a trio matching keychains set.

satoru coughs three times in attempts to hide his laugh. this has probably been the most unserious yet serious he's ever been, but his perfomance doesn't end there. he still has something else to whip out.

“baby—”

“that's not my name,” you cut him off.

“anyway. as i was saying,” he stops, revealing the rose bouquet with multiple hundred-dollar bills. “all of these are yours.”

your eyes bulge, but you quickly regain yourself.

“i'm not going to be won over with some roses and money.”

“there's wine and chocolates too,” yuuji says, immediately shutting up after you shot him a look.

inumaki stands awkwardly. he feels immense second-hand embarrassment. to counter such feelings, he starts playing the guitar again.

satoru cups the side of your face with his hand. his thumb caresses your cheek as he locks his eyes on yours again.

“i was serious about not breaking up, y'know,” he softly speaks, “i know i'm pushing it and all that stuff but i don't think i can leave you.”

it's once again your turn to be speechless. at this point, you're sure that there's no way all of this is happening in one night.

since you won't take hold of the bouquet, satoru places it in your hand. to solidify it even more, he lifts your other hand to place a kiss on it.

“what level of romance is this?” again, yuuji speaks. this time, it's satoru who gestures him to quiet down.

inumaki's still playing the out-of-tune guitar, enjoying the way the wind gently blows. it's truly a beautiful night. under the full moon's light, you and satoru glow together.

todo gears up for another round of singing. he immediately does a dragged-out “ooh~” adlib. this, however, wasn't going to last as long as his previous one did.

“NO — no more, please. you have a wonderful voice but i've heard enough. please.” you turned around to todo, begging him to mute the mic and possibly himself.

“and you,” you turn back to face satoru, “clean this up, get the boys home safely, and then come back.”

after that, you walked back to inside your house with the bouquet, making it satoru's turn to be left speechless. he still didn't win you over with some roses and money (wine and chocolates too) but his stupid commitment to keeping the relationship is what did.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jjk scenarios #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #gojo satoru scenario #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk oneshot #gojo oneshot

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thirdsaltyhunter · 29 days ago

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Hotel Pool

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: SMUT, fluff, oral (fmr), squirting, teasing, unprotected sex, breaking and entering? Dean's bad ideas

Summary: You and Dean enjoy the luxuries of a real hotel, which includes having some fun in the pool and the comfortable beds

You, Sam, and Dean were working a werewolf case the British Men of Letters had put you on. One of the BMoL, Mick Davies had decided to join you, much to you and Dean's disdain. After a few hours in the car of having to listen to his podcasts and you actively fighting rolling your eyes, Mick told you to turn into a parking lot.

Dean pulled into the lot of 'The Wild Elk Lodge', an actual hotel. You and the boys were so used to staying in run down motels, that a place like this was like a five star resort.

"This place seems a little-"

"Shabby? Yeah. 3 stars was the best I could do. Least our bean counters will be happy. Booked us all suits," Mick said.

"Wait, we're all in separate rooms?" Sam said in disbelief.

When you stayed at motels, the three of you usually shared one room. You and Dean would crammed yourself onto what was typically a twin-size bed, and Sam would get the other bed or the couch.

"Yeah of course. Except for the two lovebirds, obviously." Mick motioned between you and Dean and again, you fought not to roll your eyes.

"Did you say 3 stars? So we're talking fresh towels, little baby shampoos?" Dean interjected.

"Uh-huh... And I believe theres a pool," Mick said walking through the doors of the nice hotel.

You and Dean shared a look of excitement and disbelief. You were definitely going to be checking out the pool later.

You stepped into your room and Dean let out a low whistle of approval. It was nice. Everything was clean and white with a queen-size bed, it even had a fireplace.

Dean set you bags down and started looking around the room. You flopped down on the bed and almost moaned at how comfortable it was.

"Oh my God," you said in satisfaction as you felt the ache in your back subside.

"What?" Dean poked his head out from where he had been looking around in the bathroom.

"This bed is so soft."

"Well, we'll have to test it out later." Wiggling his eyebrows, he smiled and then flopped down next to you. "Damn, yeah."

"Mh, told you."

"Do they make their beds out of clouds and unicorn feathers, what the hell?"

You laughed, "I don't know, but I think we need to get a new mattress for the bunker, cause this is amazing."

Dean groaned. "This is going to ruin us," He got up and moved to pull out his laptop. "We stay here 5 minutes and we're already spoiled."

He sat at the small table by the window and began going over a few things for the case. You stayed layed out on the bed and eventually, you unintentionally drifted off to sleep.

A couple hours later you woke to Dean gently shaking your shoulder. You groaned and sat up to look at the clock, it was late at night now.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" you said, smoothing down your hair.

"You needed it, plus you looked so comfortable, how could I disturb you?"

"I could've helped with the research though."

"Nah there wasn't much too it. The Brits actually did their job for once, buuuut now that that's done, I was thinking we could go check out that pool."

"Baby, it's late, the hotel closes it at night."

"I know," he said, with a mischief that shone in his eyes when he was up to no good.

"So you have a plan?" you inquired, raising a brow and trying to hide your smile.

"Sweetheart, I always have a plan," he gave a proud smile and pulled his lockpicking kit from his pocket.

You felt like teenagers sneaking out of the house, except this time you we sneaking in and you were supposed to be adults. This also was far from the riskiest thing you and Dean had done, but what were you if not his partner in crime.

He had picked the lock on the door in seconds, defiant of the 'hours of operation' sign directly above it. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room, the only light was the faint moonlight shining through the windows, but it was enough to make out Dean's silhouette as he stripped down to his boxers.

As you removed your outer clothing, he jumped into the water, the sound echoing off the walls.

"At least try to be quiet," you chastised as you lowered yourelf into the pool, adjusting to the temperature.

You had to admit, this was a pretty good idea on Dean's part. I mean, it wasn't really a good idea, you could get caught at any moment, but you still were going to take your time to enjoy the nice pool. You loved to swim and it had been a long time since you had been to a motel that had a pool that didn't look like you would catch a disease from it.

After a while of swimming, you went to sit on the side of the pool with your feet dangling in the water and watched your boyfriend glide underwater from one end of the pool to the other.

He emerged in front of you and shook the water from his hair, spraying you with droplets and moved to stand between your knees.

"This is nice," he said, running a hand up the side of your bare thigh.

You hummed in agreement , the tips of your fingers toying with a strand of his wet hair.

"Nice being able to get you all wet."

You couldn't help but rool your eyes at his signature smirk that followed that comment. "Too bad I'm not wet and naked," you teased.

"We can fix that."

He slid his hand up higher and hooked his fingers into the sides of your underwear. He looked at you to gage if you we ok with this, to which you responded by raising your hips, allowing him to pull your panties off.

"So beautiful," he whispered, kissing from your knee up your inner thighs.

You leaned back on your hands and spread your legs wider for him. You were rewarded by him hooking your knees over his shoulders and licking up your entrance.

Your head fell back as he began to devour you like a man starved, alternating between long licks and sucking on your clit. It never failed to amaze you how quickly he could pull you to the edge with just his mouth. You were already close when he focused all his attention on your clit and buried two fingers deep inside you, curling them upwards. Within seconds you were falling apart, trying in vain to still keep somewhat quiet.

As you were coming down from your orgasm, he lifted you from the side of the pool and eased you back into the water so he could hold you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned as you felt his bulge pressing through his boxers. He held you for a moment,stroking a hand down your back and letting you recover.

You reached down between your bodies with the intention of providing him a fraction of the pleasure he had given you, when he stopped you. You looked up at him in confusion.

"Let's go back to our room and finish this, ok?" he responded softly.

You nodded eagerly and he helped you out of the water to dry off and re-dress, before quietly making it back to the hotel room.

Once inside the door, you were all over each other until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you let yourself fall back onto the bed. He pulled your clothes off, covering each uncovered part of your body in kisses. When you were both undressed he paused holding up a finger. He slid off the bed and moved to light the fire, casting a romantic glow over the room. After he layed down towels over the bed so you didn't soak it with your still-damp hair and -um other things...

He returned to hover over you, setting his palms on either side of your head. He dipped down to kiss the water droplets off your neck and collar bone. Your body ached for him, your fingers dug into his shoulders as he left a soft bite on your sweet spot. You lifted your hips to grind against him, letting out a soft moan as you felt his cock slide against your clit.

He pulled back from you, it took restraint to not sink into you, but he knew the more he teased you and worked you up, the better it would feel. Instead he reached down to run his finger over your swollen bud to your entrance.

"So wet," he praised.

"Well I mean we were in the-". He cut you off with a kiss and you smiled against his lips.

He dipped two fingers into you, curling them upwards making you let out a soft moan. "I know the difference, I know that this is all because of what I do to you."

He kissed you again as he eased his finger in and out of you. Slow and teasing, not enough to bring you to release, but still causing you to moan into his mouth and he was drinking up every sweet sound. He finally stopped when your fingers were digging into his bicep, signaling your desperation.

He sat back between your legs, admiring how you looked, flushed skin that was still freckled with droplets of water that reflected the light from the fire. You admired him the same. Every muscle and scar accentuated by the lighting. He was perfect to you.

"Please Dean," you breathed, reaching out a hand, desperate to touch him again.

He gave a smile that seemed almost peaceful, grateful, full of affection for you. He slid his plams up and down your legs, massaging gently before moving them to wrap around his hips. Positioning himself at your entrance, it only took him shifting to hover over you and he was fully inside you.

Your back arched, chest rising to touch his. His head fell into the crook of your neck, taking a moment to feel you around him. After you adjusted, you started to roll your hips into him, silently begging for him to move. Understanding your desire, he started to thrust into you. Still slow and gentle, but perfect. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge and curve, reaching parts inside you that no one else was able to find.

His hand moved to cradle your head while his other arm wrapped around your arched back, pulling you too him. Times like these it felt like the air between you was too much distance. He would hold you close until it became hard to tell where you ended and he began.

His pace started to increase, his movements gaining a desperate edge. The feel of him inside you made you numb to everything else. Your fingers dug into his back as you felt that familiar pressure building. Every movement heightened your pleasure until you were crying his name. He tried to shush you given that you were in a hotel. The pressure continued to build, more intense than usual. His hand came up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

"That's it, that's my girl. Cum for me."

His voice was all it took for one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had to come crashing over you. His pace faltered as you tightened around him, triggering his own release. Your climax continued and as he came and suddenly you gushed around his cock.

He relaxed on top of you, trying to recover from his orgasm, but you were rigid with shock.

"Did I just...?" you started to ask in confusion.

"Yes, yes you did," he smiled, clearly pleased with you and himself.

You felt confused and shocked and a little shy. He moved down the bed to inspect the damage.

"God baby you soaked the bed, glad we layed down a towel huh." He pulled the towel from under you and tossed it into the bathroom.

Your hands came up to cover your face.

"Hey, do not be embarrassed about that. That was awesome." He pulled your hands down and you could see his proud smile.

"I've never done that," you said quietly. Honestly you didn't even think you could.

"Want to see if I can make you do it again?" he asked playfully.

"God no, I could hardly handle the first time!" you laughed.

Dean never made you feel insecure about anything. It was nice to be able to explore new things with him. Sometimes he was even more adventurous than you. Like suggesting you break into a hotel pool in the middle of the night, but were glad to be his partner in crime. His partner in everything.

He kissed you sweetly and maneuvered your bodies so you were now laying under the covers.

"We definitely need to do this hotel thing again," he sighed, settling into the soft bed. He pull you close so your back was pressed to his chest and tucked his face into your neck.

"Now who's getting spoiled?"

"Hey! Maybe we do need new beds in the bunker that don't make my back hurt."

"Old man."

"Shut up and go to sleep." You could feel his laugh rumble in his chest as he squeezed you tight.

"I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart."

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester imagine

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greengoblinswifey · 1 month ago

Text

Ring In the New Year— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— On New Year’s Eve, you join Rafe at a country club party, your first time celebrating with the Kooks. You share your first New Years kiss at midnight, followed by starting the New Year together in a way only Rafe could make unforgettable.

warnings— smoking, drinking, slight voyeurism, cross faded quickie, praise kink, unprotected sex, choking, creampie.

a/n— happy new year everyone, may 2025 bring us all happiness and we achieve all our goals <3

The country club was everything you expected and more, live jazz music, and perfectly dressed Kooks everywhere. It was your first New Year’s Eve on this side of the Outer Banks, and you couldn't help but feel like you were stepping into another world.

You glanced at Rafe from behind your little camera, snapping a candid shot of him sipping champagne. He caught you in the act, smirking as he sauntered over.

“Are you documenting how good I look tonight, or just making sure you never forget this moment?” he teased, sliding his arms around your waist from behind.

“Maybe both,” you replied, leaning back into him. “You clean up nice, Rafe Cameron.”

He chuckled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Good, because I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, turning your head to meet his gaze. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

He leaned in close, his voice a low murmur only you could hear. “Get high, then take you somewhere private and ruin that cute little outfit.”

Your cheeks heated, but you kept your cool, swatting his arm lightly. “Only weed, no coke, Rafe. And let’s enjoy the night firs.. You’ll get your New Year’s—wish,” you teased, “but I’m getting my New Year’s kiss first.”

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your neck before pulling back. “Deal. But don’t make me wait too long, baby.”

The night was filled with laughter, Rafe’s touches, and bubbly drinks. After a bit of coaxing, Rafe led you out onto the terrace, where you shared a joint under the stars. The cool winter air mixed with the warmth of the champagne buzz as you both leaned against the railing.

“You’re such a bad influence, you know that?” you teased, exhaling a soft cloud of smoke.

He smirked, brushing a curl from your face. “And you love it.”

As the countdown to midnight began, Rafe pulled you into his arms, the world around you fading as the room erupted with excitement.

“Ten, nine,eight—”

His hands settled on your waist, his forehead resting against yours.

“Seven, six, five—”

“Ready for your kiss, Pogue?” he murmured, his lips just a breath away from yours.

“Four, three, two—”

The room erupted into cheers, fireworks bursting outside the windows, but all you could feel was Rafe’s lips on yours. The kiss was electric, soft yet demanding, like he’d been waiting all night to taste you.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, he smirked, his hands tightening on your waist. “Got what you wanted, huh?”

You grinned, giggling as he pressed another quick kiss to your lips. “Yeah. Best New Year’s kiss ever.”

“Good,” he murmured, taking your hand and tugging you toward the hallway. “Now it’s my turn.”

Your laughter bubbled up as he found an empty room, locking the door behind you. “Rafe, we’re at a country club,” you whispered, giggling as he pinned you lightly against the wall, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

“And?” he countered, his lips brushing yours. “New Year, new rules. Starting with you, baby.”

The room was quiet, except for the rapid thud of your heart in your chest. Rafe was close, his hands grabbing your ass, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as you both struggled to catch your breath.

“You sure you want this, baby?” Rafe’s voice was rough and enough to make you shiver. His hand rested on your waist, fingers tightening just enough to make you shiver.

You nodded, lips brushing against his in a barely-there kiss. “More than anything,” you breathed out.

With that, Rafe was on you, pushing you back against the cool wood of the door, his body pressing you into the surface. His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, as his hands worked quickly, pulling your dress up, fingers tracing the lines of your skin like he couldn’t get enough.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” His words were broken between kisses. “The way you look at me, the way you feel.”

You tugged at his shirt, eager to feel the heat of his skin. “I need you, Rafe.”

He growled softly, taking your hand and guiding it down to his waistband and pulling down it and his boxers in one go, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you. “You’ve got me, baby. Let’s make this count.”

His lips crashed back onto yours, and the world outside of that room ceased to exist. He hooked his finger under your thong, shifting it and lining his large, hard cock against your entrance. He was so hard, so hard that you could feel him throbbing against you. He slipped inside your wet pussy and began to move, hands and cock in a perfect rhythm, fast, heated, like every second was precious. His breath was hot against your skin, his voice soft but commanding as he whispered encouragements, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re so perfect,” he muttered. “So fucking perfect. You feel so good, baby.”

He kissed you harder, his hand slipping up to your throat, gently wrapping around it as he kissed away the soft moans escaping your lips. His thumb grazed your skin, the pressure just enough to make everything feel even more intense. You gasped, but his kiss swallowed the sound, his other hand sliding between your bodies on your clit, quick and decisive.

Every second felt like it was stretched out, the air thick with lust and passion. He kissed you once more, biting your plump bottom lip as he did like a man starved. Your hands roamed his back then up to his head, running your fingers through the little hair he had as he fucked you against the door. The whole party was oblivious and knowing anyone could pass by and hear you turned Rafe on more than you could imagine.

His fingers rubbing your clit coupled with his large hand wrapped around your neck would not allow you to last much longer. Your pussy tightened around his cock earning a low moan that you swallowed in a messy kiss.

“Fuck, baby, I can feel how close you are, cum with me, cum all over my cock,” he growled.

Then it was over as quickly as it had begun. Your jaws fell agape, soft moans leaving your lips as you stared into each other’s eyes. A soul crashing orgasm took ahold of you, your pussy drenching his thick cock buried deep inside you as his cum shot into your womb.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you mewled, your whole body shaking.

Breathing heavily, Rafe pulled out, his forehead against yours. “Best way to start the New Year,” he murmured, a smug smile spreading across his face.

You laughed softly, still reeling from the rush. “Best New Year’s I’ve had.”

Rafe chuckled, his hands gently smoothing down your dress, fixing the mess you’d both made. “You’re mine now, you know that?”

You smiled, biting your lip. “I thought I already was.”

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icallhimjoey · 3 months ago

Text

Almost, Always

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

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add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #joe quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn x reader #rpf #almost always

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

Text

Delicate

Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: "Is it chill that you're in my head? / Cause I know that it’s delicate"

Warnings: Angst, death, major series spoilers for people who haven't finished the books

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep / Are you ever dreaming of me?

Luke could admit to himself he wanted his best friend. He had for a long time. In fact everyone could see it, except for her. She seemed blissfully unaware of any feelings Luke had to the point that it made him nervous she was doing it on purpose. But if he couldn’t have her, he’d take the next best thing of being her friend. As long as she was in his life.

It was supposed to be bonfire night but Luke and Y/M had snuck off to the beach. They lay next to each other, staring up at the stars. Well, she was looking up at the stars, Luke was looking at her. They talked for hours about nothing until she finally dozed off.

Given the strict rules about curfew, Luke hardly ever got to see his best friend’s peaceful expression as she slept. Her face relaxed, unburdened by the perils of being a demigod. And as the two oldest at camp, they had a lot of perils.

Luke reached out, stroking her hair. That elicited a content sigh from her and he wondered if she was aware it was him. He wondered if she thought about or dreamed about him nearly as much as he did her. He had an ever present fantasy of absolutely sweeping her off her feet in a moment of glory. One of his favorites was after he won capture the flag, he’d march right up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and just kiss her.

But of course that would never happen so he kept it stashed in the back of his mind.

He let her sleep for a few more minutes before he finally woke her up. “Hey, you gotta get up or the harpies will get us,” he laughed softly, shaking her awake.

She groaned but opened her eyes nonetheless.

Sometimes when I look into your eyes / I pretend you're mine all the damn time

Her eyes. Luke could probably get lost in them forever. He didn’t even need to watch the stars. He’d much rather watch the reflection of them in her eyes.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by one of the Athena boys. “Oh, hey Luke. Um, I just came to find Y/N. Chiron said late curfew starts in five minutes.”

“Really?” she asked, sitting up. “How long was I asleep?”

Luke felt his face get hot. He actually had no idea, he had completely lost track of time while watching her. “Uh not long. I just didn’t want to wake you,” he tried to play it off smoothly.

She gave him a soft smile, her hand finding his knee. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to waste your night.”

“No, no, no,” he quickly corrected. “You’re never a waste of time.”

“So um,” the Athena boy cut in awkwardly. “You want me to walk you to your cabin, Y/N? It’s right across from mine.”

Luke felt a surge of possessiveness. This guy clearly liked her. But before she could answer, Luke did it for her. “We’ll head over in a few minutes but thanks,” he tried to dismiss him.

The boy looked discouraged but tried to play it off. “Oh- uh ok.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N offered, feeling bad for him. He immediately brightened with a smile before retreating back to his cabin.

Luke hated that she always seemed to leave the door open for other guys. They had had numerous conversations about the boys that liked her so he knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She just felt bad outright rejecting them so her sugar coating often came across as a signal to try harder. He just wished he could make it clear to them she was taken. Of course, she wasn’t his (yet).

Once Luke was sure he was out of earshot, he brought the topic up again. “He likes you.”

“No he doesn’t,” she immediately dismissed.

“Yes he does, and you trying to make him feel better about rejecting him doesn’t make it any better.”

“I didn’t reject him, you did.”

“Because I know you don’t like him.”

“Who says I don’t like him?” she shrugged.

Luke’s heart stopped. He had been playing defense so well for so long now that it hadn’t even occurred to him that she could like someone else. “What?”

She just shrugged again. “Who’s to say I don’t like him? You chased him away before I could get a word in.”

“D-do you like him?” Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“No, but I’m just saying-”

“Gods, Y/N!” Luke interrupted in relief. “Don’t scare me like that.”

A satisfied look crossed over her face. “Why is that scary?”

He sent her a playful glare. “You know.”

“Tell me,” she pressed.

Is it cool that I said all that? / Is it chill that you're in my head?

Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest. She had basically already confirmed she was into him but the fear still lingered in his chest. He just had to say the words and he’d have his fantasy. She’d be his.

“I like you, Y/N. I have for a long time. I was just always scared you’d… I don’t know, reject me. Or think I was being stupid. But I like you.” Luke looked at her nervously, unsure of what she’d say. His heart was still pounding even when she leaned over and kissed him. As she tried to pull away for air, Luke’s hands found their way to her face, keeping her close. “I’m not done yet,” he mumbled against her lips, eliciting a giggle.

Long night with your hands up in my hair / Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs

That night Luke really didn’t want to leave her but Y/N wasn’t willing to break the rules just yet. He had spent the entire walk back to the cabins trying to convince her to sneak into the Hermes cabin. “Please, I swear no one will snitch on you.”

She laughed, intertwining her fingers into his. “Well what about my siblings when they see I’m not in bed? What will the children think?” By now they reached Cabin 7.

“The children can think whatever they want,” Luke smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was late but several campers were still awake. Word of the couple would spread like wildfire and by the morning, even Chiron would know about the new couple.

But spending every night separately wouldn’t last for long. Y/N normally spent the evenings in the Hermes cabin where they had somehow managed to smuggle many forbidden things in. Like video games and junk food. And every night when the conch blew, signaling that curfew was soon, Luke begged her to stay. “Come on, no one will tell. Will you?” he asked his siblings.

That received a resounding “No!” swearing they’d keep our secret. She looked around the room, her resolve crumbling after weeks of this. “Fine,” she agreed. So many cheers erupted you’d think she just agreed to marry him. “But!” she waited for them to quiet down, “I’m still a counselor and I have to make sure everyone else is in bed.” Luke pouted but let her go nonetheless, promising to drag her back to Cabin 11 if she didn’t come back.

So after putting all the younger kids to bed, Y/N snuck back to Cabin 11. She found it dark but made her way to Luke’s bed. As she reached it, Luke could recognize the outline of her created by the moonlight. “Finally, I was just about to come break down your door.”

“Ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “Scoot over,” Luke obliged, sliding against the wall to create room. She slipped under the covers, settling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly, his face buried in her hair.

“‘M glad you’re staying,” he mumbled. “Feel like it’s easier to fall asleep when you’re with me.” He didn’t say it out loud but he liked having the assurance that she was safe in his arms as they slept.

“Me too,” she mused, her eyes already closed. “But I’ll say you kidnapped me if we get caught.”

“Okay,” Luke chucked. “You can blame me.”

My reputation's never been worse, so / You must like me for me

But those nights were gone now. Luke made his choice but so did she.

“Isn’t it messed up how the gods neglect their kids?” Luke asked as casually as possible, staring out at sea, his fingers tracing the dock.

“Yeah,” she mused. “Can you imagine being an omnipotent, immortal being but you can’t even take the time to tell your kid they belong to you? I mean, Apollo’s been pretty good about it but the others…?”

The pressure in Luke’s chest lessened as she more or less agreed with him. “Or how they treat us as disposable puppets? Like pawns?” He watched her face carefully as she considered it.

“What do you mean?”

Here we go. Luke began chipping at any remaining loyalty she had to the gods. “Well think about it. Thalia? Her godly parents could have saved her. Every demigod who died? Their parent could have saved them. My quest was a joke. All Hermes wanted me to do was repeat one of Heracles’ labors.”

She looked deep in thought. “I guess but why are you asking me about this?”

He took a deep breath before lacing his fingers in hers. “I’ve been uh… talking to someone.” She didn’t say anything but her furrowed brow urged him to continue. “I’ve been told that things don’t have to be the way they are. We don’t have to wait around until we’re killed. The Titan Lord could restore-”

“Shut up right now!” her frightened voice cut him off. She pulled her legs out of the water, shifting her sitting position to face him directly. “Luke! What- how- why are you doing this? So what if you can’t rely on the gods? You certainly can’t trust Kronos anymore.”

He gently grasped her hands. “Y/N, he promised every demigod that joins him immortality and safety. We wouldn’t have to cower in a summer camp with children who most likely won’t make it to their 18th birthdays. Please, come with me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.” That broke his heart. “Luke, I love you. I really do. But I can’t let you go down this path.”

Through his internal struggle with Kronos, Luke could see Y/N staring at him, pain in her eyes. He gripped Annabeth’s knife tightly, saying a silent goodbye to everyone he loved and a curse to Kronos. “I love you,” he tried to say to her but it came out strained. The blade sunk into his only vulnerable spot under his arm—his Achilles heel.

“No!” he heard her yell. But he was already on the ground, beginning to lose consciousness at the fatal blow. But Y/N was kneeling over him, tears leaving tracks on her dirty face. “No, no, no,” she mumbled. “Why, Luke?” she practically screamed in frustration.

He reached up, wiping her tears and some dirt from her face. “Do you still love me? After everything I did?”

“Of course I love you!” she cried. “I never stopped.”

Despite the pain, he was smiling. “I love you too. I’ll see you in Elysium.”

She nodded, trying to smile too but the sobs were clawing their way of her throat. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not too soon,” he insisted. “I love you, Y/N.”

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #the lighting thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #x reader #Spotify

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system-to-the-madness · 3 months ago

Text

Heart to Heart - Zuko x Reader

Word Count: 2 870 Warnings: mentions of war and death Summary: Zuko and you share a quiet moment at the Western Air Temple A/N: Can be read as a oneshot; Part Five of the series Perfect (10 times Zuko thought you were perfect and the first time he told you)

“So, you decided breaking into a Fire Nation prison would be a good idea, huh?”

Zuko sat at the edge of the ruin of the Western Air Temple, looking out into the valley, his feet dangling in the air. At the sound of your voice, he looked up.

“Well, perhaps not a good idea, but we ended up with pretty good results, I’d think,” he answered, watching as you sat down next to him, your knees pulled up to the chest as if you were cold.

“True, I’ll give you that,” you admitted with a smile. “And I think it’s definitely gotten you some sympathy points from Katara.”

“You think,” Zuko asked hopefully. “I desperately need those. She hates me!”

“Give her time,” you said nonchalantly. “To her you embodied pretty much all that is evil, topped probably only by your sister and your father. She’ll come around.”

“How about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I embody all that is evil to you, too?”

You turned to look at him, taking in his appearance for a good while, making him self-conscious under your intense eyes.

“For a while you did, I guess,” you answered eventually.

Okay, not the answer he had hoped for, but what had he expected? That you confessed you had always known he was good at heart? Hardly. He had tried to capture or kill the Avatar and his friends a few too many times for that.

“But Katara didn’t see you put yourself in danger to free Appa,” you continued. “It made me doubt the things I knew about you. The conversation you had with your uncle did, too.”

Zuko nodded, turning to watch the sky. A few clouds drifted past, thousands of stars lighting up the night.

"I made a lot of mistakes," Zuko admitted. “I can’t blame any of you for not trusting me, for not wanting to trust me.”

“Things are changing, you know,” you told him, reaching over and gently nudging his shoulder. His breath hitched at the soft contact. “You helped Aang to gain his confidence back about Fire Bending. He still has a long way to go, but it’s amazing that he agreed to try it again in the first place. And it’s kind of reassuring that you’re drawing your power not from anger anymore.”

The last sentence made Zuko smile a little.

“It feels different now, my Bending,” he explained. “Before it always felt violent, and… sort of hard, I guess. Like volcanic glass. Even when I trained it always felt like with each shot I fired, I was kicking or punching against a wall. Now it feels like it’s flowing, somehow. Like the heat and the fire is not some wild animal I have to force out, but a power that bends to my will.”

“That does sound like a big difference,” you agreed.

Zuko shrugged. “I’m still not as powerful as Azula though,” he mumbled. “I had hoped that with the new technique I might gain some ground on her, but it still feels like she’s miles ahead of me.”

“Right, you encountered her when you went ‘fishing’, right?” You drew quotation marks into the air, making Zuko roll his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, she almost would have caught us, doubtlessly to put us in a snug little fishbowl where she could tease us the whole day.”

“This might sound like a stupid question, but,” you hesitated for a moment, “what would you do if you were more powerful than her, powerful enough to easily best her.”

Confused Zuko turned to you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… would you try to kill her? Capture her? She’s your sister after all. Even with all the messed-up things she’s done, nobody here expects you to kill her.”

Zuko turned back to look out over the valley. You were right. All this time, for years, ever since childhood, ever since she had first beaten him in training, he had wished he would be good enough to overpower her. But then what?

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I don’t know what I’d do.”

For a moment he just looked out into the canyon. In the starlight he could faintly make out the other buildings hanging from the ceiling into the abyss. What had it been like when the Air Nomads had still lived here? Every window of every tower must have been lit up, thousands of lights like a mirror of the sky above. Had Sky Bisons roamed between the houses? Drifted slowly through the night? What other animals had populated these temples? Had it truly been as peaceful as he imagined it now to have been? Zuko inhaled deeply.

“The thing about Azula is… I was always chained to her in a way.” He could see you furrowing your brows at him questioningly from the corner of his eyes. “There were no kids my age living in the palace, but Azula had two friends, Mai and Ty Lee. And I was always expected to play with the three of them. Often, I thought it was stupid, they made me feel stupid. I was older than them, and had other interests, but it almost seemed a game to them to find something I hated or would humiliate myself doing… Mai was the only one who would speak up for me sometimes. But only when it was about smaller things; she was too scared of Azula. I can’t blame her. Actually, I ended up dating her for a while.”

“You had a girlfriend,” you asked, but Zuko didn’t notice the hesitation in your voice.

“Yeah, we were together for a while after… after I betrayed my uncle. But I ended things, to join you. She saved our lives, on Boiling Rock. She stopped the guards from cutting the line to the gondola.”

“She sounds like a good person, and brave,” you said quietly. “You must miss her.”

Zuko stayed oblivious to the unasked question in your statement.

“I don’t know… not really. If I’m honest, I’m not even sure why I was together with her,” he shook his head. “It sounds cruel, but the only reason why I got together with her was because it felt like the right thing to do, after returning home. I knew she had always liked me, and somehow, I thought if I were dating someone, it would stabilize the life I was hoping to live. I like her, yes, but not the way you’re supposed to like the person you’re dating. I’m just sorry I was selfish enough to hurt her without a second thought.”

“You’re young, all of us are. I think it’s inevitable to make mistakes when it comes to things like love. Only the luckiest ones can claim to never have hurt someone,” you tried consoling him.

“The thing is, I knew it was going to hurt her. But I kept doing it anyway. Maybe I was hoping my feelings would catch up eventually, but they never did.”

They couldn’t, Zuko thought to himself. Not while the idea of you had taken root in his heart. The thing that made him feel almost the guiltiest, was that even though you were hardly anything like what he had imagined you to be, he still felt enchanted by you. Glancing at you from the corner of his eyes, he only felt his sentiment confirmed. You were sitting there, wrapped in a thin coat to protect you against the chill of the night air, hair dancing slightly in the wind, face glowing from the fresh air and eyes reflecting the stars above. You were beautiful like this, perfect and beautiful. He was sure to never have seen anyone who was as beautiful as you in that moment.

“As I said,” you interrupted his train of enamoured thoughts, “we all make mistakes.”

“Some more than others,” Zuko frowned.

“That’s not what I meant,” you quickly denied. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know, don’t worry,” Zuko sighed. “I’m just upset with myself. I think some things were inevitable along the way. I mean, everyone grows somehow. But breaking Mai’s heart really wasn’t necessary. I could have avoided that if I had been a little more confident in myself.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you agreed, clearly not sure what else you were supposed to say.

“I’m just hoping, Mai somehow knew we wouldn’t last,” Zuko continued absentmindedly. “We fought, quite often actually. I know I can be difficult, but it also often felt like she didn’t even try to understand me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I know I can get jealous easily, so her anger at me for those instances was probably justified but… sometimes I just need time to think, you know? Not about something specific but… for example there was this war meeting and Azula was invited but I wasn’t. I was upset, because it made me feel like my father was rejecting me all over again, as if I weren’t good enough for him. I was upset and Mai… I know it wasn’t easy for her to see me like that, but it felt like she was trying to distract me so hard. Every time I had a problem or was concerned or worried about something, she tried to cheer me up and distract me, instead of allowing me to just give those feelings space.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes you just want to give those feelings time, to process everything. Even if it’s difficult. But like you said, it probably was really hard for her to see you unhappy,” you offered your own thoughts, making Zuko nod.

“I guess you’re right. But we ended up getting into disagreements over things like that more and more often. Even if I would have stayed, I don’t think we would have been together for much longer.”

For a while silence settled over you, as you watched the night sky. Zuko wondered why the hell he had just shared all his relationship problems he had had with Mai with you. Maybe because he hoped you would understand him better if he did, would see him more as a human with emotions than the antagonist he had been for you over the past months.

“How about you,” he eventually asked, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer. “Do you have anyone special?”

You shrugged as if it wasn’t somewhat weird for him to ask that.

“Not really. I mean… being on the run from the world’s most powerful army makes it kind of hard to form any meaningful relationships outside of the group,” you answered. “And I don’t mind, really. I’m not like Sokka, who can just flirt with every girl he sees. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with someone who I haven’t fallen in love with.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” you shook your head, “you?”

Zuko turned to look at you again, taking in your form sitting beside him, knees still pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them, eyes fixed on a point far away.

“No, I mean… maybe once,” he answered. Was he in love with you? He certainly didn’t know you well enough to be in love with you, right? Maybe he was?

“If you don’t know, you probably weren’t,” you chuckled, turning your head to meet his eyes. “I think you’d know when you fall in love.”

“It’s difficult, okay,” Zuko defended, making you laugh quietly.

“Or maybe you’re just bad at figuring out your own feelings,” you offered with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Zuko grumbled and turned his head away embarrassedly. Another gentle shove against his shoulder made him look back at you.

“I’m teasing,” you told him, with a soft smile that made his heart melt. “I’m sorry if I-”

“No, I know, don’t worry,” Zuko took a deep breath. “I’m just not used to being teased without it being with some kind of ill intentions, I guess.”

“Well, Sokka’s gonna get you used to that real quick,” you laughed. By all the spirits, he loved your laugh. “He’s brilliant when it comes to making plans and coming up with ideas, but he’s also the biggest goofball I’ve ever met. He cares more than he tries to let on and is one of the most reliable people I can imagine when things go south.”

“We fought my sister together,” Zuko recalled. “It was weird, a few weeks ago we would have ripped each other apart, but when we went up against Azula together, he really had my back… he makes it very easy to trust him.”

“He does, doesn’t he,” you agreed. “He might not outright say it, but he really appreciated you going to look for his father with him. Thank you.”

“I’m just glad I was able to help. There have been enough families that got torn apart because of me. Knowing I could help reunite at least one is… it feels good.”

You grinned at his side. “It was a brave thing to do, to break into that prison just like that.”

“Brave? More stupid than anything, but thanks.”

“Bravery and stupidity are not as far apart as some would like to believe,” you chuckled, making him smile.

“My uncle would like you,” he confessed, watching your smile shift into a questioning expression. “He’d probably share his wise phrases with you all day long.”

“Your uncle sounds like a good man,” you said, and Zuko nodded.

“I think, I understand him better now than I did before. He lost his son in the war, and he was never the same again. I think, he developed a strong dislike for any kind of conflict and when my father exiled me, he decided to come with me… I don’t know why, maybe to save me from the fate Lu Ten met… I think Uncle Iroh was more a father to me than my own father ever was. It’s strange seeing Sokka and Katara with their father, seeing what normal parents are like with their children. It makes me mad at my father, that he wasn’t like that. Mad and… vulnerable, I guess.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” you mumbled. “I don’t remember much of my father, but even my stepfather was always caring towards me. I’m sorry you didn’t get to experience that.”

“I guess, over time I’ve gotten used to it. Which didn’t stop me from begging for his approval, I’ll admit that. But now… I just hope I can see my uncle again and apologize to him for all I’ve done. After all these years that he accompanied me… I don’t know how I can make up for all the support he has given me, and how I betrayed him.”

“I’m sure when the time comes, you’ll know what to say and do. I think your uncle would be proud to know how you finally stood up for yourself.”

Zuko nodded thoughtfully. He just hoped your words would come true. He didn’t even know where Uncle Iroh was right now, whether he was even alive. If he ever got to see him again… how was he supposed to make up for all his uncle had done for him? How could he ever earn his uncle’s forgiveness after that terrible betrayal?

“Can I ask you something?”

Zuko perked up at your question but nodded.

“Earlier you said… you said your father exiled you,” you carefully asked. “I’d understand if you don’t want to talk about it but…”

“No, it’s fine,” Zuko shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Mostly just… what happened?”

“It was… foolish, both of me and my father. It started over-”

Before Zuko could even really begin telling you his story, Toph’s voice carried through the night.

“Katara made hot milk with honey for everyone!”

“Let’s talk another time,” Zuko offered, getting off the ground. His feet felt strange, standing on solid ground again after dangling in the air for so long.

“Another time,” you agreed, taking the hand Zuko had offered you and let him help you to your feet.

Your hand was small and cool in his, and he had to resist the urge to keep his fingers closed around yours, just to feel your skin against his for a short while longer. When he hesitantly let go of your hand, it felt like a wave of ice was spreading from his heart, and he immediately ached for any sort of contact with you again.

He really was an idiot, wasn’t he, he wondered as he followed you past some rubble back to the others, who were sitting around a campfire. Seeing all these people, who so willingly had adopted him into their group, another ache, the warm and gentle kind, spread through his body. After all this time, for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere. He had earned his place in this group. And when you motioned for him to sit down next to you and offered him a cup with steaming hot, sweet milk, he couldn’t help but think that he didn’t want it any other way.

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